REESE'  LIBRARY 


ITNrVERSlTY  OF  CALIFORNIA 


•^<w 


PSYCHOLOGY  OF  THE  MORAL  SELF 


PSYCHOLOGY 


OF 


THE   MORAL   SELF 


BY 


B.  BOSANOUET 


ILoittion 
MACMILLAN    AND    CO.,  Limited 

NEW  YORK  :  THE  MACMILLAN  COMPANY 
1897 


All  rights  reserved 


30 


y  /3  // 


^1 


PREFACE 

It  seems  clear  that  a  work  is  needed  which  should 
treat  of  modern  psychological  conceptions  in  their 
bearing  upon  ethical  problems.  No  doubt,  psycho- 
logy is  still  full  of  controversy,  and  fundamental 
questions  are  sub  jiidice.  But  it  would  be  an 
exaggeration  to  assert  that  no  dominant  tendency 
is  now  discernible  in  the  best  psychological  thought. 
The  doctrine  of  Apperception,  and  such  an  idea  as 
that  of  "  vital  series,"  which  is  implied  though  not 
insisted  on  in  the  present  work,  are  far  enough 
advanced  to  throw  a  wholly  new  light  upon  the 
nature  of  Will,  considered  as  the  man  in  relation  to 
action.  When  I  say  "  a  new  light,"  I  mean  a  light 
which  is  new  as  compared  with  the  popular  philo- 
sophy of  the  last  generation.  For  that  the  most 
recent  psychology  is  definitely  corroborating  the 
notions  of  Hellenic  as  of  modern  idealism,  constitutes 
its  absorbing  interest,  and  its  claim  on  the  ethical 
student.  Besides  Mr.  F.  H.  Bradley,  my  debt  to 
whom  need  not  be  further  insisted  on,  I  have  found 
the  groundwork  of  my  psychological  ideas  in  the 
writings  of  Professor  William  James,  Mr.  Stout,  and 


VI  PSYCHOLOGY  OF  THE   MORAL  SELF 

Mlinsterberg.  Professor  Sully's  Human  Mind  has 
also  been  of  great  service  to  me,  and  constitutes,  if 
I  may  venture  to  express  an  opinion,  a  striking 
advance  upon  his  earlier  writings. 

My  principal  acknowledgments  are  due,  how- 
ever, to  my  wife,  whose  assistance  in  reducing  my 
lecture-notes  to  readable  form  renders  her  share  in 
the  work  about  equal  to  my  own.         -'  '  ;,   ^  •  -  '^  '  ^^^    , 

I  am  aware  that  these  lectures  are  brief,  and 
even  curt.  But  I  believe  that  they  will  give  a  useful 
clue  to  students  who  desire  to  approach  moral 
philosophy  with  some  genuine  ideas  on  the  nature 
and  working  of  mind. 

I  have  added  at  the  end  of  the  book  a  biblio- 
graphical note,  for  beginners,  and  the  questions 
which  were  set  week  by  week  to  the  students  attend- 
ing the  lectures.  They  serve  to  insist  upon  the 
main  points  of  importance. 

B.  BOSANQUET. 

London,  March  1897. 


CONTENTS 


LECTURE    I 

PAGE 

The  Psychological  Point  of  View         .         .         .       i 


LECTURE    II 
General  Nature  of  Psychical  Events  .         .11 

LECTURE    III 

Cognition — The  Growth  of  Consciousness  .         .     22 

LECTURE    IV 

The  Organisation  of  Intelligence        .         .         -34 

LECTURE    V 
Self-Consciousness 47 

LECTURE    VI 
Feeling 58 


viii  PSYCHOLOGY  OF  THE  MORAL  SELF 

LECTURE    VII 

PAGE 

Volition 7o 

LECTURE    VIII 

Volition  {continued')  .         .         .         •         •         .82 

LECTURE    IX 
Reasonable  Action 99 

LECTURE    X 
Body  and  Soul 114 


LECTURE    I 

THE    PSYCHOLOGICAL    POINT    OF    VIEW 

I.  In  explaining  the  subject  with  which  we  are  deahng 
we  may  begin  by  contrasting  such  a  term  as  the 
"  province "  of  a  science  with  its  "  point  of  view." 
Botany,  for  instance,  has  a  "  province,"  or  a  denota- 
tion ;  that  is,  a  distinguishable  class  of  material 
objects  with  which  alone  it  deals, — there  is  no 
botany  of  rocks  or  gases,  but  only  of  plants.  Botany, 
indeed,  has  a  "  point  of  view  "  as  well  as  a  province, 
as  we  see  when  we  compare  it  with  medicine,  which 
deals  with  plants  in  so  far  as  they  have  a  specific 
action  on  the  body  ;  the  point  of  view  is  a  different 
one.  But  it  remains  true  that  the  "  point  of  view  " 
of  the  science  is  limited  by  its  "  province,"  and  vice 
versa,  in  much  the  same  way  as  in  logic  we  say  that 
connotation  is  limited  by  denotation.  Every  natural 
science  is  thus  restricted  to  a  certain  range  of  objects 
In  Psychology  the  case  is  different.  The  limit  is 
one  of  ''  point  of  view  "  only,  and  no  special  province 
can  be  marked  off.  Some  writers  {e.g.  Mr.  Sully  in 
TJie  Human  Mind)  attempt  to  limit  the  science  by 
saying  that  it  deals  with  internal  as  opposed  to 
external   experience  ;    but   as   Mr.   Ward   points   out 


2  PSVCIIOLOGV  OF  THE  MORAL  SELF  lect. 

{Eficy.  Brit.,  Ninth  ed.,  vol.  xx.  p.  37),  the  distinction 
is  either  inaccurate  or  inapplicable.  It  is  generally 
used  as  meaning  "  in  the  mind "  opposed  to  "  in 
space,"  with  a  more  or  less  vague  implication  that 
the  contents  of  the  mind  are  ideas,  and  similar 
impalpable  entities,  while  the  contents  of  space 
are  solid  things  ;  but  the  antithesis  is  an  unmeaning 
one,  owing  to  the  ambiguity  of  the  word  "  in  "  in  its 
double  application  to  consciousness  and  space.  The 
conception  of  being  "  in "  space  is  a  familiar  one  ; 
what  is  meant  by  being  "  in  "  a  mind  or  "  in  "  con- 
sciousness we  shall  consider  directly.  Sometimes 
the  distinction  is  merely  used  to  indicate  what  takes 
place  within  the  limits  of  the  body  as  opposed  to 
what  takes  place  without  those  limits  ;  but  in  this 
sense  it  does  not  distinguish  the  province  of  Psycho- 
logy from  what  falls  outside  Psychology,  since  Psy- 
chology deals  with  all  perceptions  whether  of  internal 
or  external  events. 

In  the  same  way  the  distinction  between  "mental" 
and  "  material "  fails  to  help  us  in  marking  off  our 
province  (see  Mr.  Ward,  I.e.  p.  38),  unless  we  explain 
it  as  a  mere  difference  in  the  point  of  view  we  take. 
Unless,  that  is,  we  say  that  a  material  object  when 
considered  as  presented  in  experience  is  mental,  and 
so  belongs  to  Psychology,  and  when  not  considered 
as  presented  does  not. 

Thus  we  find  that  we  must  come  to  a  distinction 
by  the  point  of  view  from  which  Psychology  works, 
and  not  by  the  province  with  which  it  deals.  Then 
the  question  arises — Can  we  say  that  Pyschology 
takes  a  subjective  point  of  view,  and  all  other  sciences 
an  objective  one  ?  Here  again  we  must  answer  in 
the  negative.      If  we  are  distinguishing,  say,  logically 


I  THE  PSYCHOLOGICAL  POINT  OF  VIEW  3 

or  ethically  between  our  presentations,  then  some  of 
them  will  be  more  subjective,  and  others  more  objec- 
tive ;  but  for  Psychology  there  is  no  such  distinction. 
Nor  is  the  science  specially  uncertam  because  it  deals 
with  mental  facts  ;  as  objects  of  observation  and 
inference  they  are  just  as  good  as  any  other  facts, 
and  as  a  science  Psychology  must  take  itself  to  be 
objective,  i.e.  to  be  such  as  any  rational  being  would 
construct  with  the  same  data.  This  suggests  the 
distinction  which  has  been  made  by  Mr.  Herbei4 
Spencer,  and  adopted  by  Hoffding  (translation,  p.  24), 
between  Subjective  and  Objective  Psychology.  Ac- 
cording to  this  distinction,  Objective  Psychology 
includes  "  physiological  and  sociological  data,"  while 
Subjective  Psychology  deals  with  the  "  natures  of 
particular  modes  of  consciousness,  as  ascertained  by 
introspection."  But,  if  we  regard  them  from  the 
point  of  view  of  throwing  light  on  mind,  all  our 
facts,  whether  we  borrow  them  from  physiology  and 
sociology,  or  whether  we  glean  them  from  intro- 
spection, are  equally  objective.  It  is  only  when 
they  are  considered  for  their  value  from  a  philo- 
sophical point  of  view  that  the  former  constitute  par 
excellence  objective  mind. 

Mr.  Ward  himself  (/.t\)  suggests  as  a  distinction 
that  Psychology  takes  an  individualistic  point  of 
view,  while  other  sciences  take  one  that  is  universal- 
istic.  This  seems  to  mean  that  the  psychologist 
deals  solely  with  facts  of  presentation  to  particular 
minds^  while  the  student  of  natural  science  neglects 
this  characteristic,  and  thinks  of  his  objects  quite 
apart  from  their  relation  to  particular  minds.  If  we 
accept  this  we  must  be  careful  that  it  does  not  tic 
us    down    to    any   assumption    about    the    individual 


4  PSYCHOLOGY  OF  THE  MORAL  SELF  lect. 

mind  being  there  to  begin  with,  or  remaining  limited 
to  any  particular  source  of  self-feeling  or  content,  as, 
e.g.,  the  body.  We  must  leave  ourselves  quite  free 
to  study  the  growth  of  mind  in  its  earlier  stages, 
and  all  possible  sources  from  which  it  may  derive 
its  content. 

Keeping  in  mind  the  necessity  of  this  freedom 
we  may  try  two  other  definitions.  James,  in  his 
Text-book  of  Psychology,  adopts  one  given  by  Ladd  : 
"  Psychology  is  the  description  and  explanation  of 
states  of  consciousness  as  such."  Here  w^e  are  met 
by  the  difficulty  that  consciousness  is  as  yet  a 
disputed  term,  that  there  is  no  agreement  among 
psychologists  as  to  what  facts  are  included  in  it,  or 
whether  or  not  it  covers  the  whole  of  psychical  or 
mental  life. 

The  second  definition  is  one  given  by  Bradley 
{Mind,  O.S.,  xii.  354).  Psychology  "has  to  do 
with  psychical  occurrences  and  their  laws,"  i.e.  with 
the  facts  experienced  within  a  single  soul,  considered 
merely  as  events  which  happen.  "  Experience  "  and 
"  soul "  are  here  used  as  very  wide  terms,  which  do 
not  commit  us  at  starting  to  any  assumptions  about 
consciousness  or  self- consciousness,  or  about  the 
"  subject "  and  similar  conceptions.  Experience 
cannot  be  defined  in  any  way,  for  it  is  all  inclusive, 
and  leaves  nothing  by  which  it  can  be  limited  ;  we 
can  only,  as  it  w^ere,  point  it  out,  or  indicate  it. 

2.  Psychical  events,  then,  or  the  facts  experienced 
within  a  soul,  together  with  their  laws  or  ways  of 
happening,  form  the  subject-matter  of  Psychology. 
What  do  we  mean  by  "  in  a  soul  ? "  Bearing  in 
mind  what  we  have  said  about  the  point  of  view,  we 


I  THE  PSYCHOLOGICAL  POINT  OF  VIEW  5 

may  reply,  "  everything  that  goes  to  make  up  its 
world."  Here  we  have  to  recall  the  distinction  made 
in  introducing  the  lectures  on  logic  {Essentials  of 
Logic,  p.  7) ;  the  distinction  between  the  psycho- 
logical and  logical  modes  of  regarding  the  contents 
of  the  mind.  The  formed  world — e.g.  as  it  exists  for 
me  in  space,  or,  again,  your  mind  to  me^is  more  than 
an  event  in  my  mind  ;  but  it  is  an  event  in  my 
mind,  and  it  is  only  from  this  latter  point  of  view 
that  Psychology  considers  it.  What  viorc  it  may  be 
is  a  question  for  other  sciences.  To  use  an 
illustration,  we  may  say  that  the  psychologist  is 
merely  a  looker-on,  an  observer  ;  and  that  to  him 
your  mind,  with  its  contents  or  object,  is  like  a 
microscope  with  its  object  to  one  who  looks  at  it 
from  the  outside.  Yon  are  interested  in  the  object 
for  its  own  sake,  but  he  does  not  want  to  know 
about  this  primarily  ;  he  is  interested  in  finding  out 
by  what  machinery  it  was  focussed  and  illuminated, 
what  caused  it  to  be  thus  before  you,  and  what  will 
cause  it  to  disappear  again  and  bring  something  else 
in  its  place.  In  this  sense  there  is  no  object  in  your 
world  which  is  not  in  your  soul,  and  Psychology 
only  considers  it  as  in  your  soul. 

The  sciences,  indeed,  which  deal  with  the  organ- 
ised reality,  although  clearly  differentiated  from  Psy- 
chology, may  themselves  afford  material  for  psy- 
chological treatment.  Esthetics,  e.g.,  treats  of  mental 
contents  from  the  point  of  view  of  their  capacity  for 
yielding  aesthetic  pleasure  or  emotion,  and  the  mind 
that  is  trained  to  ?esthetic  enjoyment  may  afford 
very  different  material  for  psychological  study  from 
the  mind  that  is  not  so  trained. 

Logic,  again,  has  an  entirely  different  sphere  from 


6  PSYCHOLOGY  OF  THE  MORAL  SELF  lect. 

Psychology  in  that  it  deals  with  mental  events  as 
material  for  the  construction  of  reality  ;  and  its 
principles  are  not  psychological  laws,  but  principles 
by  which  reality  is  constructed.  But  all  the  same,  a 
mind  which  is  swayed  by  a  logical  principle,  whether 
consciously  or  unconsciously, will  differ  psychologically 
from  one  which  is  not,  or  from  itself  when  not  under 
the  influence  of  the  principle  ;  the  mental  contents 
will  be  differently  organised  in  the  two  cases,  and 
will  thus  afford  different  material  for  the  psy- 
chologist. 

3.  It  will  help  us  here  if  we  mention,  merely  in 
general,  what  Aristotle  had  to  say  about  the  nature 
of  the  soul.  It  will  show,  that  is,  how  the  problem 
presented  itself  to  a  great  man  approaching  it  while 
it  was  comparatively  fresh  and  free  from  preconcep- 
tions about  immortality,  free-will,  and  muscular  con- 
traction.     We  may  notice  : — 

{a.)  It  presents  itself  to  him  as  a  matter  of 
gradation.  It  is  difficult  to  say  where  the  soul 
begins  ;  there  is  vegetative  mind  or  life,  sensitive 
mind,  rational  and  volitional  mind.  In  proportion 
as  the  order  of  Nature  takes  on  a  certain  individual 
and  apparently  purposive  form,  the  problem  of  mind 
begins  and  it  continues  upwards  into  consciousness. 
Here  we  can  see  no  apparent  dread  of  materialism, 
or  at  any  rate  of  continuity  with  the  unconscious  ; 
and  it  is  very  hard  to  find  out  what  was  thought 
by  Plato  and  Aristotle  of  the  relation  of  the  Soul 
to  consciousness.  They  think  more  of  order  and 
the  appearance  of  purpose  than  of  mere  conscious- 
ness. 

(/5.)   The  definition  is  more  like  that  of  a  problem 


I  THE  PSYCHOLOGICAL  POINT  OF  VIEW  7 

or  a  postulate  than  of  a  thing.  Mind,  he  tells  us, 
begins  with  "  The  simplest  mode  of  self-realisation 
of  an  organic  body."  This  leaves  room  for  other 
modes  of  mind  above,  and  growing  out  of,  the 
simplest,  and  does  not  tie  us  down  to  any  mode  of 
subject  or  substance  ;  we  might  paraphrase  it  by 
saying  that  "  mind  is  the  way  in  which  the  unity 
of  an  organic  body  displays  itself."  He  afterwards 
distinguishes  to  the  best  of  his  power  the  different 
phases  of  the  psychical,  as  we  also  must  endeavour 
to  do,  and  in  so  doing  he  connects  infant  Psychology 
with  that  of  animals. 

The  point  is,  that  stating  the  problem  in  this 
large  way  enables  us  to  approach  it  quite  differently 
from  the  way  in  which  a  ready-made  dogmatiser 
approaches  it.  We  are  led  to  look  at  the  mind, 
prima  facie ^  as  beginning  a  long  way  down,  and  as 
a  sort  of  struggle  towards  unity.  I  do  not  say 
that  this  view  could  be  true,  e.g.,  in  metaphysics  ; 
but  it  is  very  convenient  to  be  allowed  to  take  it 
in  Psychology.  We  grant  readily  that  we  cannot 
explain  mind  as  a  co-operation  of  bodily  parts — of 
monads  or  the  like  ;  nevertheless,  it  does  seem  to 
be  a  co-operation  of  elements  in  experience,  elements 
which  are  not  merely  drawn  from  our  own  body, 
but  which  all  ultimately  appear  to  have  definite 
connections  in  the  environment  which  we  construct. 

4.  The  soul,  then,  for  us  is  simply  our  immediate 
experience,  which  we  take  as  belonging  to  a  thing 
that  has  past  and  future,  in  a  way  just  analogous  to 
that  in  which  we  construct  anything  in  space  and 
give  it  identity.  We  trace  our  soul  backward,  and 
construct  it  from  our  given   experience.      The  word 


8  PSYCHOLOGY  OF  THE  MORAL  SELF  lect. 

"  immediate  "  perhaps  needs  explanation  here  ;  it  is 
used  to  exclude  the  real  world  which  is  the  content 
of  experience.  If  this  was  included,  as  we  saw,  the 
soul  would  be  everything.  But  though  the  soul  is 
not  in  the  full  sense  everything  which  it  knows,  yet 
it  is  different  because  of  wha^/it  knows  ;  the  content, 
or  world  of  realities,  of  C(^Vse  affects  the  immediate 
experience,  giving  it  colo^ir  and  definite  filling. 

/ 
5.  The  abstract  ego  is  a  different  conception 
from  that  of  the  soul,  and  we  need  not  really 
trouble  ourselves  with  it  in  Psychology.  It  repre- 
sents the  argument  that  the  subject  which  knows 
must  be  other  than  the  object  which  is  known,  and 
that  it  must  be  identical  throughout.  As  to  the 
prima  facie  truth  of  this  we  may  note  what  actually 
takes  place  in  our  ordinary  conceptions  of  the  self, 
which  seem  to  Involve  a  constant  transposition  of 
content  between  the  self  and  not-self.  (See  Ward, 
Eficy.  Brit.,  Ninth  ed.,  vol.  xx.  p.  39).  At  one  time  the 
self  is  identified  with  the  body,  and  at  another  it  is 
distinguished  from  it,  while  there  is  always  a  tendency 
to  describe  certain  phases  or  regions  of  consciousness 
as  the  real  or  true  self,  as  opposed  to  others  with 
which  we  are  less  inclined  to  identify  ourselves. 
But  the  point  is  that  the  self,  in  Psychology,  seems 
always  to  be  identified  with  some  positive  content, 
and  not  always  with  the  same.  Whether  or  not 
there  is  a  positive  identical  nucleus  of  presentation 
is  still  a  question  for  discussion.  But  what  we 
would  suggest  is  that  the  abstract  ego  is  merely  a 
way  of  describing  one  characteristic  of  the  concrete 
self,  and  does  not  really  help  to  explain  it.  At  all 
events,  it  could   be  of  no  use  to  us  in   Psychology 


UNI 
THE  PSYCHOLOGICAL  POINT  OF  VIEW     \       p 

unless  it  declared  itself  in  some  way  by  affecting 
the  sequence  and  connections  of  our  presentations, 
and  this  seems  only  possible  through  some  positive 
content  ;  a  mere  abstract  point  would  not  impose 
any  special  direction  or  grouping  upon  our  presen- 
tations. And  if  it  merely  represents  the  general 
character  of  these  presentations  themselves — their 
tendency,  for  instance,  to  reproduce  one  another  in 
certain  ways — we  want  only  this  character  itself  in 
so  far  as  it  works,  and  need  not  trouble  ourselves 
with  any  theory  about  its  origin. 

Conclusion. — This,  then,  is  the  picture  of  a  soul 
which  I  have  tried  to  suggest  ;  not  a  ready-made 
machine  working  on  certain  material,  but  a  growth 
of  material  more  like  a  process  of  crystallisation, 
the  material  moulding  itself  according  to  its  own 
affinities  and  cohesions.  The  nervous  system  may 
indeed  be  regarded  from  one  point  of  view  as 
a  pre-existing  machine  ;  but  not  psychically,  for 
it  constitutes  no  special  part  of  our  presenta- 
tions. Given  this  view  we  may  ask,  looking  at 
the  general  purpose  of  our  lectures,  "  Ought  a 
spiritual  philosophy  to  be  content  with  such  a  view 
as  this  ? "  This,  of  course,  is  only  an  objection 
which  might  be  urged,  not  one  which  should  be,  for 
Philosophy  has  no  right  to  dictate  to  Psychology. 
But  our  answer  would  be  "  Yes  ;  it  is  just  a  spiritual 
philosophy  which  ca?i  be  content  with  it."  If  you 
think  the  whole  universe  is  mechanical  or  brute 
matter,  then  we  can  understand  your  trying  to  keep 
a  little  mystic  shrine  within  the  individual  soul, 
which  may  be  sacred  from  intrusion  and  different 
from  everything  else — a  monad  without  windows. 
But    if   you    arc    accustomed    to   take   the   whole   as 


10  PSYCHOLOGY  OF  THE  MORAL  SELF        lect.  i 

Spiritual,  and  to  find  that  the  more  you  look  at  it 
as  a  whole  the  more  spiritual  it  is,  then  you  do  not 
need  to  play  these  little  tricks  in  order  to  get  a  last 
refuge  for  freedom  by  shutting  out  the  universe. 

It  has  always  been  the  most  spiritual  philosophy 
that  has  been  most  audacious  in  simply  taking  the 
soul  as  an  operation  or  appearance  within  the 
universe,  incapable  of  being  cut  off  from  other 
operations  and  appearances,  and  demanding  to  be 
investigated  quite  impartially  with  reference  to  the 
origin  and  connection  of  its  elements.  There  is 
nothing  to  be  afraid  of  in  finding  that  the  operative 
content,  the  actual  being  of  the  soul,  comes  from  the 
environment.  How  else,  indeed,  should  we  have  a 
real  communion  with  other  souls  ? 


LECTURE    II 

GENERAL    NATURE    OF    PSYCHICAL  EVENTS 

I.  Before  going  on  to  consider  the  general  nature 
of  psychical  events  it  will  be  well  to  say  a  word 
about  the  attitude  we  should  take  in  interpreting 
what  different  psychologists  may  have  said.  In  all 
such  interpretations  there  are  two  pitfalls  to  avoid. 
In  the  first  place  we  must  be  careful  not  to  force 
every  difference  of  expression  between  one  writer 
and  another  into  a  difference  of  principle.  For 
instance,  Locke's  use  of  the  term  idea  for  any 
presentation  is  probably  peculiar  to  himself,  but 
when  we  understand  the  sense  in  which  he  applied 
it  we  find  that  it  covers  no  difference  of  principle. 
On  the  other  hand,  we  must  not  allow  ourselves  to 
deny  that  there  are  differences  of  principle,  on  the 
ground  that  the  different  terms  employed  must  have 
referred  to  experience  which  is  the  same  for  those 
who  use  them.  The  only  safe  rule  in  critical  history 
is  to  study  our  writers  as  a  whole,  and  see  what 
they  really  wished  to  maintain;  what  the  whole  drift 
of  their  language  supports.  There  is,  of  course,  such 
a  thing  as  confusion  of  thought  ;  where  the  writer 
himself  has  not  been  clear  as  to  what  was  involved 
in  his  statements.     We  may  perhaps  find  an  instance 


12  PSYCHOLOGY  OF  THE  MORAL  SELF  lect. 

of  this  in  Mill's  theory  of  inference  from  particulars  to 
particulars. 

2.  The  history  of  modern  Psychology  may  be 
said  to  begin  with  Hobbes,  and  is  at  first  mainly 
concerned  with  the  doctrine  of  Association.  (See 
Croom  Robertson's  article  in  the  Encyclopaedia 
Britannica  on  "  Association  ").  This  doctrine  was 
taken  up  by  Locke  and  Hume,  but  is  said  to  have 
been  first  thoroughly  applied  to  the  whole  of  mind 
by  Hartley.  For  our  present  purpose  we  may 
consider  it  as  it  developed  in  the  hands  of  Locke 
and  Hume. 

They  were  the  authors  of  the  "  Psychological 
Philosophy  "  which  has  so  frequently  been  criticised. 
The  necessary  effect  of  narrowing  down  all  Phil- 
osophy into  Psychology  is  to  cut  away  the  material 
of  Psychology  itself.  The  method  employed  is  to 
begin  by  laying  it  down  that  the  validity  of  ideas 
depends  upon  their  mode  of  origin,  and  not  upon 
self-evidence ;  and  then  to  proceed  by  inquiring 
into  this  mode  of  origin  in  the  history  of  the 
individual  mind.  Thus  the  problem  which  presents 
itself  to  them  is  that  of  putting  together  the  mind 
and  the  world  out  of  mere  psychical  events,  out  of 
irreducible  facts  or  data.  By  refusing  to  take  more 
than  what  is  given,  they  are  tied  down  to  the 
consideration  of  events  in  the  soul,  and  this  leads 
to  subjective  idealism,  because  all  ideas  may  be 
regarded  as  events  in  the  soul,  and  any  question  as 
to  what  validity  they  have  as  making  up  a  world 
belongs  to  a  different  enquiry  altogether.  Moreover 
the  followers  of  this  method  are  prevented  even  from 
stating  the  full  nature  of  the  events  in  question  ;   for 


II  GENERAL  NATURE  OF  PSYCHICAL  EVENTS  13 

these  events  have  an  aspect  which  affects  their 
nature  as  events,  although  it  is  not  their  nature  as 
events,  and  is  therefore  disregarded  by  the  psycho- 
logical philosopher. 

When,  therefore,  he  begins  the  study  of  this 
mental  history,  the  psychological  philosopher  is 
first  struck  by  those  fairly  discriminated  presenta- 
tions which  occupy  the  focus  of  attention  in  the 
mature  intelligence.  He  sets  to  work  to  classify 
these  as  Locke  does  ;  and  he  classifies  them  under 
the  most  obvious  heads  of  distinct  sources  of 
sensation  (especially  the  five  senses),  and  obvious 
modes  of  reflection.  Locke,^  indeed,  is  aware  that 
sensations  are  altered  by  the  judgment,  but  he  does 
not  press  this  idea  so  far  as  to  recognise  the  close 
interconnection  of  all  mental  elements.  On  the 
whole  it  seems  fair  to  say  that  he,  and  still  more 
Hume,  takes  as  a  type  of  the  mind  the  very  brightest 
centre  of  the  focus  of  attention,  disregarding  all  the 
mass  of  presentations  which,  as  we  are  now  taught, 
make  up  the  soul.  But  the  focus,  of  course,  may 
change  very  sharply.  If,  e.g.^  we  take  our  memory 
of  the  leading  presentations  during  a  whole  day, 
without  forcing  or  cross-questioning  ourselves,  it 
may  be  like  a  string  of  beads  without  any  apparent 
connection — cabs,  streets,  persons,  work,  eating,  the 
newspaper — a  mere  set  of  lantern  slides  ;  indeed,  as 
we  remember  them  they  will  not  even  be  dissoh'ing 
views. 

Now  this  was  naturally  how  Locke  and  Hume 
tended  to  look  at  the  train  of  ideas.  From  their 
point  of  view  there  was  nothing  to  be  gained  by 
more    subtle    and    complete     investigation.       Their 

^  Essay,  lik.  ii.  ch.  ix.  sect.  S. 


14  PSYCHOLOGY  OF  THE  MORAL  SELF  lect. 

interest  was  to  know,  in  the  first  place,  whether  our 
more  important  ideas  either  of  sound  and  colour  or 
of  space,  or  again  of  substance  and  causation  or  of 
the  self,  were  irreducible  data  ;  and,  secondly,  how 
they  came  to  cohere  or  to  be  associated  together. 
They  rummaged  about  in  experience  and  found 
what  they  looked  for — the  most  striking  events  in 
the  soul  ;  and  having  found  them  they  were  soon, 
and  rightly,  satisfied  that  the  history  of  the  individual 
soul  is  a  history  of  events,  which,  as  events,  as 
irreducible  data,  gave  no  purchase  for  stepping 
across  to  anything  from  them.  Nor  would  a  deeper 
investigation,  if  conducted  from  the  same  standpoint, 
have  directly  influenced  their  views  ;  although  in- 
directly it  would  have  done  so,  and  in  the  long 
run  it  did  greatly  help  to  alter  the  views  of  their 
successors.  For  Hume,  then,  the  mind  was  like  a 
string  of  beads  without  the  string,  or  a  peal  of  bells, 
and  this  is  what  we  mean  when  we  speak  of 
Atomism.  (Atomism  is  merely  the  Greek  form  for 
individualism,  only  it  happens  that  atom  has  come 
to  mean  a  thing  and  individual  a  person).  There 
appear  to  be  two  stages  of  Atomism  ;  the  first,  in 
which  it  is  a  sheer  fiction  and  is  now  a  thing  of  the 
past,  the  second,  in  which  it  involves  a  psychological 
confusion  which  we  must  consider  more  in  detail. 

(i.)  As  a  statement  of  Hume's  theory  of  simple 
sensations  and  ideas  as  units  of  the  mind  we  may 
quote  the  following  passage  (pp.  320,  321,  Black's 
edition,  vol.  i.). 

"  It  is  evident  that  the  identity  which  we  attribute 
to  the  human  mind,  however  perfect  wc  may  imagine 
it  to  be,  is  not  able  to  run  the  several  perceptions 
into  one  and    make   them    lose    their   characters    of 


II  GENERAL  NATURE  OF  PSYCHICAL  EVENTS  15 

distinction  and  difference,  which  are  essential  to 
them.  It  is  still  true  that  every  distinct  perception 
which  enters  into  the  composition  of  the  mind  is  a 
distinct  existence,  and  is  different  and  distinguishable 
and  separable  from  every  other  perception,  either 
contemporary  or  successive." 

And  again,  "  What  we  call  mind  is  nothing  but  a 
heap  or  collection  of  different  perceptions  united 
together  by  certain  relations,  and  supposed,  though 
falsely,  to  be  endowed  with  a  perfect  simplicity  and 
identity." 

This  kind  of  description  is  a  sheer  fiction  if  it 
implies  that  discriminated  sensations  and  ideas  are 
a  primitive  constant  and  the  only  contents  of  the 
mind.  Probably  this  is  what  it  did,  on  the  whole, 
imply  in  Locke,  making  due  allowance  for  the 
passage  above  quoted,^  where  he  says  that  sensa- 
tions are  modified  by  the  judgment.  Really  this 
passage  only  serves  to  emphasise  the  doctrine,  which 
we  can  trace  henceforward  in  all  the  British  psycho- 
logists down  to  Bain  inclusive. 

To  bring  out  what  is  implied  in  the  doctrine, 
take  as  an  instance  the  sort  of  vision  an  artist  has 
of  clearly  discriminated  colour  patches  ;  these  are 
sensations  perhaps  most  nearly  approximating  to 
Hume's  distinct  perceptions.  Can  we  think  that  a 
baby,  near  the  commencement  of  its  psychological 
experience,  has  anything  like  these  clearly  defined 
sensations  ;  or  must  we  not  rather  regard  them  as 
the  result  of  a  long  process  of  education  in  dis- 
crimination ?  What  is  really  meant  by  the  single 
sensation  which  we  find  alluded  to  in  psychological 
manuals  ?      Is    it    a    primary    and    fixed    constituent 

^   /sssaj',  Bk.  ii.  ch.  ix.  sccl.  S. 


i6  PSYCHOLOGY  OF  THE  MORAL  SELF  lect. 

in   all   perception  ;    or    is    it,  as    experienced    by  an 
adult,    a    result    of   discrimination    which    normally 
disappears     in     perception  ?        In     other    words,    is 
mental    growth    a    process    of    compounding    units 
distinctly   given,   or   is    it    rather   a    process    of  dis- 
crimination  within   a   mass   which  cannot  and   does 
not  change  its  character  all  at  once  (as  the  focus  of 
attention  may  do  from  moment  to  moment)  because 
it  is  not  all  attended  to  in  the  same  measure  at  once. 
It  is  important  for  the  student  to  note  carefully 
the   line   taken    by  psychological    text-books    about 
this.      To  note,  that  is,  whether  they  represent  mind 
as  compounded   out  of   given   units   by  a   process   of 
association,    or   as    growing    by    differentiation    of  a 
continuous  tissue  or  texture.     It  is  interesting  in  this 
respect  to  compare   Sully's  earlier  and   later   books 
{^Outlines  of  Psychology  and  The  Human  Mind),  and 
to  note  also  how  far  the  structure  of  his   book   tells 
the   same   tale   with    its    doctrines.       James,   in    the 
preface  to  his  text-book,  explains  that  he  prefers  to 
proceed    "  from    the    more    concrete    mental    aspects 
with  which  we  are  best  acquainted  to  the  so-called 
elements  which  we  naturally  come  to  know  later  by 
way  of  abstraction.     The  opposite  order  of  '  building 
up '  the  mind   out  of  its  '  units  of  composition  '  has 
the  merit  of  expository  elegance,  and  gives  a  neatly 
subdivided  table  of  contents  ;  but  it  often  purchases 
these  advantages  at  the  cost  of  reality  and  truth  .  .  . 
we  really  gain   a   more   living  understanding  of  the 
mind  by  keeping  our  attention   as   long  as  possible 
upon  our  entire  conscious  states  as  they  are  concretely 
given  to  us,  than  by  the  post-mortem  study  of  their 
comminuted   '  elements.'      This  last  is  the   study  of 
artificial  abstractions,  not  of  natural  things." 


II  GENERAL  NATURE  OF  PSYCHICAL  EVENTS  17 

Ward's  account  of  the  psychical  continuum  {Ency. 
Brit.,  Ninth  ed.,  vol.  xx.  p.  45)  is  quite  clear,  and  should 
be  carefully  read.  "  We  are  led,"  he  tells  us,  "  alike 
by  particular  facts  and  general  considerations  to  the 
conception  o{-A.totuin  objectiviun  or  objective  continuum 
which  is  gradually  differentiated,  thereby  becoming 
what  we  call  distinct  presentations,  just  as  with  mental 
growth  some  particular  presentation,  clear  as  a  whole, 
as  Leibnitz  would  say,  becomes  a  complex  of  dis- 
tinguishable parts.  Of  the  very  beginning  of  this 
continuum  we  can  say  nothing  :  absolute  beginnings 
are  beyond  the  pale  of  science.  Actual  presentation 
consists  in  this  continuum  being  differentiated,  and 
every  differentiation  constitutes  a  new  presentation." 
The  Atomism  which  denies  a  psychical  continuum  in 
this  sense  is  a  fallacy  very  like  (and  contemporary 
with)  the  fallacy  of  the  social  contract  in  its  crudest 
form  ;  it  antedates  the  independent  existence  of  the 
individual. 

We  have  said  that,  indirectly,  better  observation 
on  psychological  ground  has  done  much  to  rectify 
this  fallacy.  We  may  mention  two  points  with 
reference  to  which  this  is  specially  noticeable  :  {a) 
less  conscious  or  sub-conscious  presentations ;  {U)  one 
special  portion  of  these — organic  sensations. 

id)  With  regard  to  sub-conscious  presentations  in 
general,  it  was  probably  Herbart  who  first  drew 
attention  to  them.  By  employing  the  conception  of 
the  "  threshold  of  consciousness,"  and  thinking  of 
presentations  as  rising  above  or  falling  below  this 
threshold  according  as  they  are  more  or  less  clearly 
present,  we  avoid  the  mistake  of  confining  our 
theoretical  considerations  to  that  part  of  conscious- 
ness which  we  are  most  definitely  attending  to.      We 

c 


i8  PSYCHOLOGY  OF  THE  MORAL  SELF  lect. 

may  illustrate  this  from  the  focus  of  vision.  When 
we  fix  our  eyes  upon  any  object  so  that  it  is  clearly 
discriminated— that  forms,  as  it  were,  the  centre  of 
our  vision,  but  does  not  cover  the  whole  field — there 
is  much  that  is  not  attended  to,  that  is  out  of  focus, 
and  therefore  indistinct.  In  the  same  way  the 
presentations  which  occupy  the  focus  of  attention  at 
any  moment  are  really  the  smallest  part  of  what 
the  mind  has  present  to  it ;  there  is  a  field  which  is 
occupied  by  presentations  which  are  not  in  focus, 
and  therefore  not  discriminated,  and  the  whole  state 
of  consciousness  takes  its  colouring  very  much  from 
these.  This  sub-conscious  mass  changes  very  slowly, 
and  in  every  person  probably  has  certain  permanent 
and  many  habitual  elements,  and  in  this  way  goes 
far  to  bind  consciousness  together  as  one  whole.  It 
is  interesting  to  connect  this  theory  of  sub-conscious- 
ness with  the  question  of  Feeling  and  the  elements 
of  thought  and  reason  which  are  implicit  in  it,  and 
which  enable  it  to  serve  as  a  real  principle.  (See 
Hegel,  Hist,  of  P kilos.  (E.  Tr.),  iii.  400.) 

{b)  The  so-called  organic  sensations  consist  of  all 
the  obscure  sensations  that  go  to  make  up  our  bodily 
comfort  or  discomfort  ;  the  total  result  is  sometimes 
called  the  Coenesthesis  or  "  common  feeling."  This 
does  not  seem  to  be  noticed  by  Locke  or  Hume,  but 
it  is  noticed  in  Bain.  It  forms  a  very  important 
factor  in  the  psychical  continuum,  for  though  it  is 
not  usually  in  the  focus  of  attention,  it  is  always  in 
the  margin,  and  forms  the  background  of  our  whole 
conscious  life.  While  it  persists,  our  sense  of  our 
identity  remains  unshaken,  whatever  vicissitudes  we 
may  undergo ;  while  to  grave  changes  in  it  are 
probably  due  such   pathological   phenomena  as   the 


II  GENERAL  NATURE  OF  PSYCHICAL  EVENTS  19 

"  duplication  of  the  ego,"  or  the  hallucination  of 
poisoning  which  is  apt  to  accompany  the  onset  of 
lunacy. 

To  omit  these  elements  as  absolute  facts  of 
psychological  observation  was  sheer  omission  of 
psychical  material  on  the  part  of  the  older  psycho- 
logists. By  taking  this  material  in,  our  view  of  the 
mind  is  made  much  more  concrete.  The  simile  of 
a  series,  or  collection,  or  train  of  ideas  now  yields  to 
that  of  mass  and  wave  (the  base  of  the  wave  contain- 
ing the  marginal,  its  crest  the  focal  elements),  of 
which  all  the  parts  react  on  each  other. 

(ii.)  But  even  when  we  have  accepted  the  psychical 
continuum  and  the  psychical  mass  or  wave,  there  is 
still  the  question  as  to  how  we  should  regard  its 
continuity.  After  all  is  said,  it  remains  true  that 
each  pulse  of  mind,  each  advance  of  the  wave,  in 
one  sense  each  presentation,  is  an  event  which  never 
recurs.  We  need,  therefore,  some  account  of  the 
nature  of  the  continuity  or  identity  of  this  con- 
tinuum ;  and  it  is  quite  possible  for  the  essential 
faults  of  Atomism  to  continue  along  with  the  recogni- 
tion of  a  mass  or  wave  of  presentations  as  a  psychical 
fact.  We  may,  that  is,  continue  to  confuse  the 
events  with  their  reference  or  meaning. 

A  very  fair  test  as  to  whether  psychologists  make 
this  confusion  is  their  statement  of  the  Law  of 
Association  (here  we  are  anticipating).  What  is  it 
that  Association  marries  ?  events  in  the  soul  or 
generalised  contents  ?  Take  Bain's  statement  {^Mental 
or  Moral  Science^  p.  85) — "Actions,  Sensations,  and 
States  of  Feeling,  occurring  together  in  close  succes- 
sion, tend  to  grow  together  or  cohere  in  such  a  way 
that  when  any  one  of  them   is  afterwards   presented 


20  PSYCHOLOGY  OF  THE  MORAL  SELF  lect. 

to  the  mind,  the  others  are  apt  to  be  brought  up  in 
idea."  Clearly  what  we  have  here  is  a  resurrection 
of  mere  events.  (For  a  further  criticism  of  this  view 
see  Ward,  Ency.  Brit.,  Ninth  ed.,  vol.  xx.  p.  60.) 

A  further  test  of  the  presence  of  this  confusion  is 
the  use  of  the  "  Law  of  Obliviscence  "  as  a  normal 
part  of  the  Associative  process.  If  A  suggests  d,  it 
is  said,  it  does  so  because  it  suggests  a,  which  was 
formerly  presented  as  abed,  and  so  is  connected 
with  d\  but  because  only  d  is  now  suggested,  it  is 
necessary  to  account  for  the  disappearance  of  abc 
by  the  law  of  obliviscence,  by  the  action  of  which 
they  are  so  attenuated  as  to  become  invisible  links. 
Tn  other  words,  on  this  theory,  in  order  to  get  from 
the  A  which  suggests  to  the  d  which  is  suggested,  we 
must,  it  is  said,  go  round  through  the  details  of  a 
former  presentation.  But  since  these  details  do  not 
appear  in  consciousness,  it  is  obvious  that  we  cannot 
verify  them,  and  the  question  is  whether  we  really 
go  through  them  at  all.  I  pass  a  particular  house, 
and  it  recalls  to  me  a  friend  who  used  to  live  there. 
Must  I  on  principle,  suppose  that  my  mind  has  gone 
round — unconsciously — through  the  details  of  some 
former  event  in  which  he  and  the  house  were  con- 
nected— say  a  call  which  I  made  there  on  the  2nd 
of  May  ;  or  may  I  not  suppose  simply  that  a 
general  connection  has  been  formed  by  which  one 
part  of  the  content  directly  reinstates  the  other  ? 
As  an  instance  of  the  misleading  influence  of  this 
theory,  we  may  notice  its  application  (first  by  a 
clergyman  named  Gay,  and  afterwards  by  Hartley 
and  others)  to  the  problem  of  means  and  ends. 
The  miser,  it  is  said,  begins  by  desiring  money — like 
other  people — for  what  it  will  get ;   it  is  at  first  only 


II  GENERAL  NATURE  OF  PSYCHICAL  EVENTS  21 

a  means  to  other  ends.  By  what  process  does  he 
come  to  make  the  money  the  one  end  of  his  exist- 
ence to  the  exclusion  of  all  others  ?  The  Associa- 
tionists  explain  that  it  is  because  the  feelings 
formerly  connected  with  the  ends  have  become 
gradually  associated  with  the  means  so  closely  that 
finally  they  become  transferred  to  it.  (See  Bradley's 
Ethical  Studies^  p.  60.) 

With  this  ordinary  law  of  Association  we  may 
now  compare  Bradley's  statement  {Mind,  O.S.,  xii. 
358).  "Every  mental  element  when  present  tends 
to  reinstate  those  elements  with  which  it  has  been 
presented."  An  "element"  here  means  any  dis- 
tinguishable aspect  of  the  matter  or  content,  and  not 
any  particular  event  in  the  soul.  We  need  not  here 
go  further  into  this  question,  which  has  been  raised 
in  this  lecture  merely  to  explain  Atomism.  But  we 
must  bear  in  mind  that  we  shall  always  have  Atomism 
in  principle,  until  the  content  of  the  soul  connects 
itself  together,  and  in  order  to  do  this  it  must  go 
beyond  events  to  meanings.  So  long  as  the  work 
of  connection  is  thrown  upon  "  attention,"  or  "  the  sub- 
ject," and  so  long  as  events  are  connected  instead  of 
contents,  we  continue  to  have  psychological  confusion. 

What  is  really  wanted  to  complete  the  idea  of 
the  psychical  continuum  is  a  true  account  of  identity. 
This  must  just  reverse  Hume's  doctrine  {I.e.)  that 
identity  is  added  to  the  string  of  perceptions  by  the 
observer,  who  thus  comes  to  regard  the  mind  as  identi- 
cal with  itself  Identity  must  really  bclo7ig  to  the 
perceptions,  and  unite  them  together.  The  question 
is,  whether  we  take  identity  to  consist  in  the  exclusion 
of  difference  ;  if  we  do,  we  have  Atomism,  and  can  get 
no  further  than  A  is  A.      We  shall  return  to  this  later. 


LECTURE    III 

COGNITION THE    GROWTH    OF    CONSCIOUSNESS 

In  this  lecture  we  have  to  consider  what  Cognition 
is  from  the  point  of  view  of  Psychology  ;  in  other 
words,  we  have  to  consider  the  development  of  a 
world  as  it  takes  place  de  facto.  The  question  of 
the  validity  of  the  cognition  does  not  primarily 
concern  us.  In  our  next  lecture  we  shall  consider 
more  in  detail  the  processes  by  which  Cognition 
develops. 

Our  criticism  of  the  doctrine  of  Association  may 
be  supplemented  by  contrasting  the  term  itself  with 
such  terms  as  "  community,"  "  corporation,"  or 
"  unity."  It  implies  that  the  view  taken  is  of  in- 
dependent units,  which  are  the  same  in  the  combina- 
tion as  out  of  it,  and  are  tied  or  linked  as  such  by 
Association  ;  and  historically  it  really  originated  in 
such  a  view.  The  general  truth  implied  in  it  is, 
that  phases  of  the  soul,  such  as  presentations,  can 
be  traced  in  time,  and  that  a  sort  of  causation,  or  at 
least  a  natural  sequence,  can  be  observed  in  them  ; 
the  real  principle  being,  however,  not  a  linking  of 
units,  but  organisation  by  identities  of  content 

Our  starting-point,  then,  must  be  different  from 
that  assumed  by  the  doctrine  of  Association  strictly 


J 


LECT.iii    COGNITION— GROWTH  OF  CONSCIOUSNESS    23 

taken.  It  must  be  a  continuous  presentation,  to  be 
described  either  as  feeling,  or,  as  others  would  say, 
as  having  the  three  aspects  of  feeling,  conation,  and 
sensation  (or  cognition).  The  conception  is  that  of 
a  direct  experience  which  is  a  multiplicity  of  deter- 
minations, but  does  not  distinguish  them  ;  a  state 
prior  to  consciousness,  and  also  continuing  as  one 
side  of  consciousness.  The  question  is  important  as 
an  attempt  to  get  something  which  embraces  our 
whole  psychosis  as  a  single  experience — as  ourself 
Then,  if  we  call  it  Feeling,  it  is  not  feeling  in  the 
sense  of  mere  Pleasure  or  Pain.  But  there  is  not  a 
very  great  practical  difference  between  the  two  views, 
for  there  must  be  movement  and  variety  in  feeling, 
and  it  becomes  merely  a  question  of  how  we 
ought  to  describe  their  presence  in  a  very  simple 
state  of  soul.  For  instance,  there  would  be  change 
in  feeling  as  the  presentations  changed,  but  not  at 
first  a  feeling  of  succession  ;  that  needs  some  one  (or 
more)  group  of  presentations  which  is  felt  as  per- 
sistent against  the  rest.  Thus  movement  would  be 
there,  but  how  would  it  be  presented  ?  We  have  to 
imagine  a  more  or  less  vaguely  felt  continuum, 
gradually  differentiating  itself  into  qualitatively 
distinct  sensations,  and  then  developing  into  the 
consciousness  which  is  so  varied  as  to  have  the 
appearance  of  being  made  up  of  many  different 
elements  and  aspects.  In  its  earlier  stages  this 
vague  continuum  might  be  like  our  dream-world, 
through  which  ghosts  of  presentations  are  constantly 
gliding  without  any  attempt  on  our  part  to  organise 
them,  or  mould  them  into  the  solidity  of  reality. 
Hence  the  saying  that  there  is  no  surprise  in 
dreams  ;    every   wave    of   presentation    just    is,    and 


24  PSYCHOLOGY  OF  THE  MORAL  SELF  lect. 

we  accept  it  without  speculation  as  to  its  source  or 
reason. 

The  problem  for  Psychology  is  to  get  from  this 
vague  continuum,  or  dream-world,  to  our  waking 
world,  as  organised  in  Space  and  Time,  and  as  con- 
trasted with  our  mere  ideas — the  world  to  which, 
in  our  Cognition,  Perception  is  especially  relative. 

We  are  capable  of  Perception  in  the  most  general 
sense  when  we  have  erected  a  persistent  group  within 
our  presentations  into  a  "  real  object,"  i.e.  into  some- 
thing which  is  a  presentation,  but  is  more  than  a 
mere  presentation,  and  which  therefore  exercises 
constraint  on  the  course  of  psychical  events.  Ob- 
jects in  space  are  the  simplest  instance.  With 
them  there  arises  the  distinction  between  signs  and 
objects  ;   mere  ideas  are  signs. 

In  order  to  get  to  this  stage  from  the  mere  mass 
of  feeling  which  is  the  undeveloped  soul,  the  chief 
matter  of  principle  is  to  obtain  the  distinction  between 
changes  in  the  presentation  mass  which  are  due  to 
its  previous  course,  and  changes  which  maintain 
themselves  against  its  course,  or  which  seem  to 
interfere  with  it,  to  collide  with  or  guide  it.  This 
is  the  germ  of  the  distinction  between  mere  idea 
and  reality,  and  it  is  only  with  reality  that  we  get 
to  Cognition.  To  work  out  the  development  would 
involve  an  account  of  a  very  long  stage  of  evolution  ; 
but  there  is  no  doubt  that  the  force  at  work  is  that 
of  interference — as  a  rule,  of  disappointment. 

In  order  to  account  for  the  development  we  have 
to  assume — 

(i.)  That  the  total  presentation  has  recurring 
elements. 

(ii.)   That  a  presented  element  tends  to  reproduce 


Ill        COGNITION — GROWTH  OF  CONSCIOUSNESS        25 

the  elements  with  which  it  has  been  presented  (a 
form  of  the  laws  of  Association)  in  such  a  way 
that  there  is  a  tendency  to  form  groups. 

(iii.)  That  there  are  movements  in  the  organism 
which  are  brought  about  by,  and  themselves  bring 
about,  changes  in  the  presentation  mass,  and  that 
these  changes  are  pleasant  or  painful. 

Then  the  general  type  of  process  would  be  : 
change  in  the  presentation  mass,  say  an  indication 
of  food  within  reach,  followed  by  a  movement  which 
is  felt,  and  is  such  as  has  previously  brought  about 
another  change  in  the  presentation  mass,  say  contact 
with  the  food.  If  the  movement  always  succeeded 
in  bringing  about  this  second  change,  it  is  difficult 
to  see  how  progress  should  take  place.  But  if  we 
suppose  the  movement  (which  is  felt)  to  fail,  then 
it  would  result  in  two  contradictory  presentations 
tied  together..  The  change  in  the  presentation  would 
be  forced  to  analyse  itself,  to  break  up  into  con- 
flicting elements.  The  movement  would  in  part 
produce  the  same  feeling  as  before  by  its  effect  on 
the  outside  of  the  organism  (we  leave  out  for  the 
present  inotoi"  feelings,  if  there  are  any),  and  this 
would  reproduce  by  association  the  feeling  of  contact 
with  food  and  consequent  pleasure  ;  but  the  fact  of 
failure  would  actually  produce  a  different  feeling, 
possibly  contact  with  some  substance  that  caused 
pain.  The  two  elements  would  struggle,  there  would 
be  tension  and  pain,  and  finally  the  objective  one, 
as  we  call  it — the  one  corresponding  to  the  physical 
fact — would  drive  the  other,  or  merely  mental  element, 
out. 

At  first  this  is  all  nothing  more  than  a  succession 
of   psychical    modifications.       Strictl}'    speaking,  we 


^  OF    TIM 


<^  01 


26  PSYCHOLOGY  OF  THE  MORAL  SELF  lect. 

cannot  say  that  it  is  expectation  and  disappoint- 
ment, because  the  suggestion  of  contact  with  food 
simply  came  as  a  fact  of  presentation,  and  we  must 
not  assume  that  at  first  the  soul  treats  it  as  an 
expectation — i.e.  as  something  which  promised  or  re- 
ferred to  a  future  fact  of  a  different  order  from  itself 

But  after  experience  of  the  conflict  then  the 
suggestion  of  pleasure  would  tend  to  become  a  mere 
expectation  ;  that  is  to  say,  when  the  feeling  of  the 
movement  was  again  suggested  it  would  bring  the 
collision  of  feelings  along  with  it ;  the  suggestion  of 
the  food  would  be  there,  but  accompanied  by  a 
suggestion  of  possible  failure,  and  this  must  ulti- 
mately lead  to  the  required  distinction  when,  after 
the  movement,  the  presentation  either  occurs  or 
does  not  occur. 

The  conflict  would  then  give  rise  to  a  distinction 
between  the  continuous  psychical  course  and  the 
grouped  and  recurring  presentations  that  have  power 
to  constrain  or  disappoint  it.  The  conflicting  sug- 
gestions of  pleasant  and  painful  contact  necessarily 
come  to  be  distinguished  from  the  unambiguous 
presentations  which  the  reality  will  give  ;  and  finally, 
a  psychical  suggestion  would  come  to  be  regarded  as 
a  mere  separable  sign  of  the  constraining  presentation, 
— a  sign,  that  is,  which  might  be  experienced  apart 
from  the  presentation,  but  is  no  longer  a  single  fact 
in  its  own  right. 

Perception  would  then  become  possible.  Its 
essence  would  not  be  the  mere  blending  of  a 
psychical  suggestion  with  a  presentation  having 
points  of  identity  with  it — not  merely  a  feeling  of 
food  reinforced  by  contact  with  real  food  and  so 
maintaining  itself ;  it  would  be  the  blending  of  ideal 


Ill        COGNITION GROWTH  OF  CONSCIOUSNESS        27 

elements  by  identity  with  tlie  objective  presentation 
after  the  two  have  passed  through  a  thorough 
opposition  to  each  other,  and  the  sign  is  distin- 
guished from  the  thing  signified.  This  is  what  I 
wanted,  or  This  is  my  food.  F  is/i  Then  at  last 
the  blending  through  identity  of  points  in  the 
content  means  a  judgment. 

Perception  of  Space  {Inner  and  Outer).  —  Our 
explanation  of  the  Perception  of  Space,  and  of  how 
it  has  been  developed,  will  depend  again  upon 
whether  we  accept  or  reject  psychological  Atomism. 
To  the  Associationist,  Space  can  be  constructed  by 
the  linking  together  of  sensations  which  originally 
formed  one  or  more  Time  series,  and  then  by 
occurring  simultaneously  became  associated  into  the 
perception  of  Space.  This,  however,  really  amounts 
to  saying  that  sense  of  Space  is  at  bottom  the  sense 
of  Time  ;  and  that  is  quite  contrary  to  the  facts  of 
experience.  (See  Ward,  Ency.  Brit.,  Ninth  ed.,  vol. 
XX.  p.  53.) 

On  the  other  hand  we  make  the  problem  even 
harder  than  it  is  by  treating  elementary  presentations 
as  if  they  had  to  be  either  inward  or  outward  in  the 
developed  sense.  This  is  a  distinction  which  only 
appears  later  ;  for  we  cannot  have  Imier  except  in 
contrast  with  Outer.  Thus  the  problem  is  not  in 
any  case  one  of  changing  inner  presentations — i.e. 
mental  changes,  knozun  as  such — into  outer  ones  ;  but 
of  differentiating  a  given  world,  a  world  which  would 
not  present  itself  as  changes  in  a  mind,  as  a  time- 
series^  but  simply  as  a  given  mass. 

Ward  and  James  express  this  non-inwardness 
which  precedes  the  development  of  full  spatial 
character,  by  saying  that   "  extensity,"   as   the   mere 


28  PSYCHOLOGY  OF  THE  MORAL  SELF  lect. 

possibility  of  differentiation,  is  primitive.  James, 
indeed,  seems  to  say  that  all  sensations  are  extended 
in  three  dimensions — i.e.  that  they  all  contain  the 
element  of  voluminousness,  which  is  the  original 
sensation  of  space  ;  a  view  which  seems  incompre- 
hensible, e.g.^  about  sound.  Nor  does  it  seem  likely 
that  his  belief  in  an  original  third  dimension  of  space, 
which  is  perceived  wtmediately^  can  be  justified.  But 
there  is  no  doubt  that,  whether  we  accept  the  term 
"  extensity "  or  not,  sensations  of  touch  and  sight 
must  have  from  the  beginning  a  kind  of  more  and 
less  which  is  other  than  ///tensity  ;  that  is,  they  must 
have  spatial  character,  parts  outside  one  another, 
and  capable  of  being  recognised  as  outside  one 
another  in  the  developed  consciousness. 

When  we  have  assumed  spatial  quality  as  belong- 
ing to  certain  of  our  presented  groups,  then  recog- 
nisable feelings  of  movement  and  contact  help  us  to 
give  definition  to  the  size  and  relative  position  of 
those  groups.  All  localisation  must  have  its  origin 
in  reference  to  the  body,  and  the  first  question  which 
arises  is  the  question  as  to  how  sensations  are 
localised  by  the  subject  in  different  parts  of  the 
body.  The  process  can  only  be  explained  by  as- 
suming some  difference  in  the  sensations  themselves, 
or  their  accompaniments,  which  enables  us  after 
experience  to  assign  them  to  some  definite  position 
in  space.  The  sensation  must  contain  or  be  accom- 
panied by  some  sign  indicating  the  locality  at  which 
the  stimulus  is  felt.  One  suggestion  has  been  that 
every  nerve  conveys  in  addition  to  the  sensation  an 
"  extra-impression,"  which  serves  as  this  local  sign, 
and  indicates  to  what  position  the  stimulus  which 
gives  rise  to  the  sensation  is  to  be  referred.      Lotze, 


Ill         COGNITION GROWTH  OF  CONSCIOUSNESS        29 

in  discussing  the  nature  of  this  extra-impression, 
suggests  that  no  stimulus,  not  even  the  prick  of  a 
pin,  is  really  confined  in  its  effect  to  a  mathematical 
point,  but  that  owing  to  the  continuity  of  the  skin 
there  are  accompanying  displacements,  each  in  its 
turn  giving  rise  to  its  special  subordinate  sensation 
which  accompanies  the  main  sensation  in  conscious- 
ness. This  would  fulfil  the  requirement  "  that  all  the 
spatial  relations  of  the  stimulus  acting  on  us  should  be 
replaced  by"  (or  translated  into)  "  a  system  of  gradu- 
ated qualitative  tokens,"  or  local  signs.  (Lotze,  Meta- 
physics, Bk.  iii.  ch.  iv. ;  see  also  Ward,  Ency.  Brit.,  Ninth 
ed.,  vol.  XX.  p.  54).^  When  we  have  succeeded  in 
developing  this  system  of  local  signs — when,  that  is, 
experience  has  enabled  us  to  differentiate  them  out  of 
the  original  vague  continuum — then  we  are  able  to  refer 
things  to  their  places  in  connection  with  our  bodies. 

Another  question  arises  as  to  the  perception  of 
distance.  Is  it  only  obtained  by  association  with  touch 
and  movement,  or  is  it  a  true  optical  sensation  ? 
James  seems  to  maintain  that  it  is  seen  immediately, 
and  is  not  merely  constructed  from  our  experience. 
But  strictly  speaking  it  is  not  visible;  in  the  line  of 
vision  point  covers  point,  and  it  is  only  as  plane 
surfaces  emerge  that  there  is  anything  to  be  seen. 
It  is  our  interpretation  of  the  relations  between  these 
plane  surfaces,  as  given  in  their  sizes  and  colouring, 
and  combined  with  our  experience  of  movements, 
which  enables  us  to  construct  a  third  dimension,  i.e. 
to  see  distance.  But  James's  conception  of  measure- 
ment by  tilings  which  we  identify  seems  very  true  as 
an   account   of  the   development  of  the    perception. 

^  For  a  criticism  of  Lotze's  view,  see  Kiilpe's  Outlines  of  Psychology 
(E.  Tr.),  sect.  61. 


30  PSYCHOLOGY  OF  THE  MORAL  SELF  lect. 

Touch  and  movement  are  necessary  to  give  us  the 
first  idea  of  the  third  dimension,  but  the  presentational 
groups  would  help  to  develop  it.  Here  we  see 
how  much  depends  on  the  identification  of  presenta- 
tional groups.  Spatial  reality  is  the  system  of  groups 
which  we  connect  with  our  bodies. 

So  also  in  Time  ;  the  essence  of  the  perception 
depends  on  the  formation  within  the  psychical 
continuum  of  groups  that  have  phases.  But  in 
order  that  succession  may  give  rise  to  the  idea  of 
succession,  there  must  be  something  which  is  recog- 
nised as  interesting  and  persistent  throughout  the 
successive  phases.  It  seems  natural  to  suppose  that 
the  interest  in  succession  (such  as  expectation,  or  the 
contrast  of  the  actual  present  and  the  unreal  future, 
and  memory  as  introducing  expectation)  would  exist 
long  before  what  we  mean  by  Time  arose — that  is, 
before  any  idea  of  comparative  duration  arose. 
Tenses  have  been  said  to  arise  out  of  moods. 

Probably  at  first.  Time  would  be  merely  a  system 
of  occasions  or  signals  for  action,  which  would  thus  be 
much  like  any  instinctive  action,  and  it  might  have 
very  little  to  do  with  sense  of  duration.  Birds  will 
go  to  roost  in  an  eclipse,  accepting  the  darkness  as 
a  signal,  without  regard  to  the  time  at  which  it 
occurs,  i.e.  to  the  duration  of  the  day.  But  this 
naturally  develops  into  a  process  of  holding  together 
the  phases  of  tivo  groups,  which  may  of  course  be 
one's  bodily  feelings  and  another  group,  and  noting 
how  far  they  coincide.  Failure  to  coincide  would  be 
especially  noticeable  ;  "  mid-day  sun  and  no  food  !  " 
and  the  fear  that  the  light  would  go  before  food  was 
obtained  would  give  rise  to  interest  in  succession. 
James's    idea    of   measurement    by   things    perhaps 


Ill         COGNITION GROWTH  OF  CONSCIOUSNESS        31 

applies  in  Time  also.  It  seems  doubtful  whether  we 
begin  measurement  by  accurate  phases  of  the  body 
group  ;  though  we  might  begin  with  hunger.  The 
phases  of  those  objects  which  demand  customary 
action  would  develop  the  idea  of  comparative  dura- 
tion by  the  attention  directed  upon  them.  If  we 
take  for  instance  the  distinction  between  winter  and 
summer  nights,  the  difference  of  length  could  suggest 
itself  very  slowly.  An  animal  might  by  instinct 
avoid  a  long  chase  on  a  winter's  day,  and  try  it  on  a 
summer's  day ;  but  when  a  creature  came  to  re- 
member and  notice  that  it  could  go  very  much 
further  by  daylight  in  summer  than  in  winter,  then 
we  have  the  germ  of  a  comparison  of  duration. 

The  essential  for  any  idea  of  succession  at  all  is, 
that  several  phases  of  some  rhythm  should  be  held 
together  in  memory  against  some  constant  element  ; 
and  this  is  the  germ  of  comparing  two  sets  of  phases 
together  by  asking  how  many  of  the  one  rhythm  go 
to  one  of  the  other  ?  It  is  impossible  to  compare 
directly  the  phases  of  the  same  succession.  There 
is  no  attempt  at  accurate  judgment  until  we  come  to 
simple  pJiysical  theory,  such  as  is  involved  in  the 
water-clock  or  the  sand-glass  ;  there  is,  indeed,  no 
need  to  ask  whether  the  days  are  equal,  so  long 
as  sunrise,  noon,  and  sunset  adequately  dictate  our 
movements. 

With  regard  to  our  construction  of  the  temporal 
series.  Ward  suggests  that  it  is  effected,  or  at  least 
facilitated  by  the  "  movements  of  attention."  The 
adjustments  of  expectation,  etc.,  may  be  remembered, 
and  so  help  us  to  throw  a  series  into  order  when  we 
look  back  upon  it  ;  but  unless  there  were  also  some 
reason   for  the   order  the   tendency   would    probably 


32  PSYCHOLOGY  OF  THE  MORAL  SELF  lect. 

not  be  very  strong.  The  judging  of  sJiort  intervals, 
again,  has  to  do  with  the  rhythm  of  respiration,  etc., 
but  this  is  not  the  principal  source  of  division  used 
for  practical  purposes.  That  is  always  axiomatic, 
resting  on  the  assumed  constancy  of  some  natural 
process,  as  in  the  examples  above  referred  to.  (Cf. 
author's  Knozvledge  and  Reality,  p.  329). 

Physical  Reality  implies  both  Space  and  Time  ; 
Space  as  relation  to  the  body  group,  and  Time  as 
the  idea  of  persistence  apart  from  our  psychical 
course.  It  has  been  shown  above  how  we  endow 
things  with  separate  existence  in  order  to  explain 
contradictions,  due  to  change  of  phases  contradicting 
the  suggestions  of  our  psychical  course. 

Consciousness.  —  Consciousness  as  opposed  to 
unconsciousness  is  taken  to  cover  all  soul-life  ;  but 
in  this  sense  it  must  not  be  identified  with  conscious- 
ness/<2r  excellence — the  state  of  mind  which  definitely 
has  an  object  before  it,  and  seems  to  have  little  or 
no  content  for  the  subject  ;  the  state  of  mind,  that 
is,  which  regards  the  objective  world  as  a  given 
something  which  is  not  itself  This  is  the  position 
of  common  sense,  and  it  is  continued  by  abstraction 
in  the  physical  sciences,  which,  as  we  saw,  take  no 
notice  of  being  in  the  soid  at  all,  but  treat  the  process 
of  knowledge  as  a  mere  analysis  of  something  given 
outside  the  self.  No  doubt  consciousness  may  be 
bound  to  become  j-^^consciousness  as  soon  as  we 
reflect  upon  it,  but  the  position  of  common-sense 
is  that  it  does  not  reflect. 

Is  not  the  body  the  self  in  early  soul-life  ?  Not 
exactly  so  ;  there  is  more  and  less  in  the  nucleus 
of  the  Self  from  the  first ;  and  the  body  is  gradually 
passed  over  into  the  objective  world.      This  process 


Ill        COGNITION — GROWTH  OF  CONSCIOUSNESS        33 

really  leads  up  to  a  reaction.  Common-sense  ends 
by  passing  everything  over  into  the  "  other,"  e.g. 
when  we  discover  that  sensation  is  not  at  the  nerve- 
tips,  we  begin  to  treat  nerves  as  outside  mind  ;  but 
this  "  other "  is  being  organised,  and  really  is  the 
organised  content  of  the  soul  ;  although  wc,  in  our 
common-sense  stage,  have  forgotten  that  it  is  so, 
and  have  set  it  over  against  the  bare  abstract  Self, 
thus  preparing  for  another  stage. 


D 


LECTURE    IV 

THE    ORGANISATION    OF    INTELLIGENCE 

I.  The  central  point  of  our  last  lecture  was  the 
development  of  cognition  as  it  takes  place  in  the 
formation  of  groups  within  the  psychical  continuum. 
In  this  lecture  we  shall  consider  the  names  given 
to  different  aspects  of  the  processes  by  which  these 
groups  are  formed  and  react  upon  one  another  in 
such  a  way  as  to  develop  thought.  We  shall  find 
that  these  processes  fall  under  two  main  heads, 
Blending  and  Reproduction.  The  aspects  known 
as  Assimilation,  Discrimination,  and  Apperception 
belong  chiefly  to  Blending  ;  while  Association  be- 
longs to  Reproduction.  (The  subject  of  attention  is 
too  wide  to  be  dealt  with  here.  It  may  be  regarded 
either  as  a  general  name  for  the  laws  according  to 
which  presentation  takes  place,  or  in  a  more  special 
sense  for  volition.) 

2.  Assimilation  and  Discrimination  are  generally 
treated  as  correlative  processes,  both  employed  in 
the  "  elaboration  of  mind  "  (see  Sully,  Human  Mind, 
chap,  vii.),  but  of  an  opposite  tendency.  The  fact  is, 
that  apart  from  the  theory  of  identity  (see  Lecture 
II.),  their  relation  is  very  hard   to   state.      Generally 


LECT.  IV     THE  ORGANISATION  OF  INTELLIGENCE  35 

Speaking,  they  are  regarded  as  alternating,  first  a 
little  of  one  and  then  a  little  of  the  other ;  and 
according  as  psychologists  have  a  preference  for  one 
or  the  other,  that  one  is  represented  as  being  of 
primary  importance,  and  preceding  the  other.  (See 
Sully,  /.<;.)  We  seem  to  get  nearer  the  truth  if  we 
regard  them  both  as  different  aspects  of  one  and  the 
same  process.  Certainly  we  can  hardly  describe  the 
one  without  implying  the  other. 

(a)  Assimilation  is  elementary  recognition  (see  Ward, 
Ency.  Brit.,  Ninth  ed.,  vol.  xx.),  the  mere  perceiving 
as  like;  that  is  to  say,  it  is  recognition  unaccompanied 
by  any  process  of  localisation,  or  of  conscious  com- 
parison. In  this  sense  it  is  recognition  in  its  earlier 
stages,  or  the  germ  of  recognition.^  The  process  is 
something  like  this  :  a  change  in  the  presentation 
continuum  such  as  has  taken  place  before,  recurs  ;  in 
recurring,  it  coalesces  with  the  residuum  of  its  former 
occurrence,  and  it  thus  appears  as  familiar  ;  i.e,  it 
is  recognised  as  a  previous  experience,  even  though 
the  circumstances  of  its  former  occurrence  cannot  be 
reproduced. 

Why  does  the  recurrence  of  a  change  make  it 
seem  familiar  ?  The  mere  reinforcement  by  the 
residuum  of  a  previous  change  may  make  the  im- 
pression stronger  or  clearer  than  it  would  otherwise 
have  been,  but  there  seems  to  be  no  reason  why  it 
should  give  rise  to  a  feeling  of  familiarity,  the 
consciousness   that   it   has   been   there   before.       This 

^  I  do  not  feel  sure  whether  the  note  of  faniiharity,  of  "  I  have  seen 
that  before,"  which  marks  assimilation  par  excellence,  is  present  in  all 
perception  in  an  apprecial)le  degree,  except  where  there  is  distinct  un- 
familiarity.  In  returning  to  one's  own  house  or  room  it  is  certainly 
there.  But  the  interest  of  a  positive  percei)tion — the  "  wliat  is  it?" — 
often  dwarfs  the  "seen  before." 


36  PSYCHOLOGY  OF  THE  MORAL  SELF  lect. 

must  probably  be  due  to  a  suggestion  of  difference. 
The  change  itself  has  occurred  before,  but  under 
different  circumstances,  and  therefore  with  different 
psychical  accompaniments.  As  the  new  content 
blends  with  the  residuum  of  the  old,  two  different 
contexts,  the  present  and  the  past,  are  brought 
together,  and  we  are  aware — more  or  less  con- 
sciously — of  the  same  content  in  different  settings. 
This  is  what  constitutes  familiarity.  The  process  is 
thus  a  twofold  one  ;  the  blending  of  new  and  old 
brings  to  light,  or  at  any  rate  suggests,  difference,  and 
at  the  same  time  the  element  of  identity  is  rein- 
forced. For  instance,  I  am  looking  for  a  street,  but 
have  forgotten  its  name.  Suddenly  I  come  upon  it 
and  recognise  it  ;  i.e.  in  the  first  place  I  notice  the 
name  ;  I  pick  it  out  from  amongst  all  the  others 
because  it  is  emphasised  by  blending  with  the  sub- 
conscious residuum.  But  this  by  itself  is  not  enough. 
I  might  notice  it  because  it  was  written  in  larger 
letters,  and  so  emphasised  above  the  others  ;  and  mere 
noticing  is  not  recognition.  But  as  I  notice  the 
name  it  also  faintly  suggests  the  past  context  in 
which  it  was  presented,  and  which  differed  in  some 
respects  from  the  present ;  thus  a  difference,  a  vague 
vista  of  continuity  reaching  beyond  the  given  context, 
is  suggested,  and  the  feeling  of  familiarity  appears  ; 
the  feeling  of,  as  it  were,  comparing  the  presentation 
with  itself  and  finding  it  the  same. 

Strictly  speaking,  to  assimilate  would  more 
naturally  mean  to  make  like,  than  to  recognise  as 
being  like.  Wundt  brings  this  out  clearly  by 
insisting  on  the  way  in  which  we  are  apt  to  transfer 
the  different  context  of  our  present  perception  to  the 
.previous    one    to    which    it    is    assimilated,    or    vice 


IV  THE  ORGANISATION  OF  INTELLIGENCE  37 

versa,  of  the  previous  perception  to  the  present  one. 
This  may  be  done  to  a  degree  which  actually 
amounts  to  illusion  ;  our  preconceived  idea  actually 
modifies  the  presentation  as  we  receive  it.  He  gives 
as  an  instance  the  illusion  produced  by  the  rough 
daubs  of  the  scene-painter,  which  are  supplemented 
by,  or  assimilated  to,  our  former  experience  of  land- 
scapes, and  so  endowed  with  the  qualities  of  reality. 
It  is,  no  doubt,  a  question  how  far  there  is  an  illusion 
by  means  of  the  transference  of  differences,  and  how 
far  the  presentation  does  actually  undergo  change. 

Why  do  the  groups  of  presentations  within  the 
psychical  continuum  form  as  they  do  ?  Why,  that 
is,  do  not  colours  group  with  colours,  smells  with 
smells,  and  touches  with  touches  ;  instead  of  feel  and 
colour  and  smell  combining  together  in  one  group  as 
one  thing  ?  One  reason,  no  doubt,  is  that  Association 
does  not  take  place — as  it  has  so  often  been  said 
to  do — by  similarity.  (See  Ward,  Ency.  Brit.,  Ninth 
ed.,  vol.  XX.,  p.  56.) 

But  the  chief  reason  is,  that  the  groups,  in  the 
first  place,  are  given  in  this  way,  and  in  the  second, 
act  {i.e.  are  interesting  for  us)  in  these  combinations. 
Sensations  of  the  same  sense,  such  as  two  colours  or 
two  sounds,  tend  to  exclude  each  other.  It  is  sensa- 
tions of  difTerent  senses  that  can  most  naturally  be 
presented  together,  and  when  the  group  has  been 
formed  the  one  sensation  becomes  a  sign  of  the 
others.  Groups  which  constantly  cohere  in  this  way 
come  to  be  assimilated  (recognised)  as  wholes  which 
affect  us,  and  are  therefore  discriminated  from  the 
background  because  of  their  importance  for  life, 
before  their  elements  are  separately  assimilated  and 
recognised  as  qualities.      In  science,  that  is  when  we 


38  PSYCHOLOGY  OF  THE  MORAL  SELF  lect. 

begin  to  reflect  upon  them,  we  do  arrange  our  sensa- 
tions in  qualitative  series  ;  we  disengage  them,  that 
is,  from  the  groups  in  which  they  are  originally 
given,  and  re-group  them  according  to  their  kind. 

(/3)  This  leads  us  to  Discrimination.  Here  we 
may  note  some  points  in  James's  chapter  on  Dis- 
crimination {Text-book,  p.  244).  In  the  first  place 
the  elements  to  be  discriminated  must,  as  he  says,  be 
different  if  we  are  to  know  them  as  different.  But 
difference  does  not  of  itself  make  discrimination. 
Two  different  elements  may  be  presented  without 
the  difference  being  noticed  ;  this  corresponds  to  an 
unassimilated  presentation.  As  James  points  out, 
impressions,  to  be  discriminated,  must  be  experienced 
separately  by  the  mind.  But  here  we  must  be  care- 
ful to  define  what  we  mean  by  separately  ;  an  isolated 
impression  is  never  experienced.  The  point  is,  that 
any  element,  before  it  can  be  discriminated,  must  be 
presented  in  different  surroundings  or  in  a  different 
context.  Further,  the  elements  to  be  discriminated 
must  have  a  common  basis.  Take  as  an  instance 
"  goodness  "  and  "  two  o'clock."  Each  is  itself,  the 
two  are  quite  different,  but  there  is  neither  assimila- 
tion nor  discrimination  between  them  ;  there  is  no 
psychical  relation  at  all.  We  cannot  have  dis- 
crimination, i.e.  felt  or  perceived  difference,  without  a 
fight  on  the  basis  of  identity,  without  having  the 
same  content  in  different  contexts  (see  last  lecture), 
and  this  begins  with  assimilation.  The  very  sense 
of  familiarity  has  the  germ  of  difference  in  it,  of 
persistence  through  two  contexts. 

Using  a  formula,  we  may  say,  A  is  given  in  two 
contexts,  AB  and  AC  ;  when  it  is  presented  again 
it  suggests  both  B  and  C,  which  must  conflict   until 


IV  THE  ORGANISATION  OF  INTELLIGENCE  39 

they  find  a  modus  vivendi.  This  modus  vivendi  is  a 
relation  of  difference.  "  When  a  red  ivory  ball,  seen 
for  the  first  time,  has  been  withdrawn,  it  will  leave  a 
mental  representation  of  itself,  in  which  all  that  it 
simultaneously  gave  us  will  indistinguishably  co-exist. 
Let  a  white  ball  succeed  to  it  ;  now,  and  not  before, 
will  an  attribute  detach  itself,  and  the  colour,  by  force 
of  contrast,  be  shaken  out  into  the  foreground.  Let 
the  white  ball  be  replaced  by  an  ^^^,  and  this  new 
difference  will  bring  the  form  into  notice  from 
its  previous  slumber,  and  thus,  that  which  began  by 
being  simply  an  object  cut  out  from  the  surrounding 
scene  becomes  for  us  first  a  red  object,  then  a  red 
round  object,  and  so  on  "  (Martineau  in  James,  /.r.). 
Or  we  may  take  as  another  instance  a  tree  as  it 
appears  with  its  leaves  off,  and  again  with  its  leaves 
on  ;  here  what  is  needed  to  make  us  recognise  it  as 
the  same  tree  under  different  conditions  is  the  relation 
of  time-difference,  with  all  that  it  involves.  But  quite 
at  first  no  definite  relation  is  perceived  ;  there  is  simply 
a  feeling  of  familiarity,  of  persistence  ;  a  feeling,  that 
is,  of  a  former  context  accompanying  assimilation. 

3.  Apperception. — James  deals  with  this  term  in 
a  short  section  in  his  chapter  on  Perception,  and 
explains  that  he  has  not  used  it  because  of  the  very 
different  meanings  which  have  at  various  times 
attached  to  it.  It  is  a  word  with  an  eventful  history, 
and  played  a  great  part  in  Kant's  system.  We 
may  perhaps  say  that  what  it  meant  for  Kant  was 
the  modification  produced  in  the  matter  of  perception 
owing  to  the  nature  of  the  perceiving  mind.  This 
is  an  attempt  to  do  what  has  since  been  done  more 
fully — to  insist,  that  is,  upon  the  activity  of  the  mind 


40  PSYCHOLOGY  OF  THE  MORAL  SELF  lect. 

in   perception,  and    to    explain    the    nature   of    that 
activity.      In    this    explanation   the  chief  danger   to 
be  avoided  is  that  of  representing  Apperception  as 
some  kind  of  innate  faculty,  in  a  sense  approaching 
that  of  the  old  faculty-Psychology.      For  its  modern 
or    Herbartian   meaning  we    may  take    Mr.    Stout's 
definition  of  Apperception  as  "  the  process  by  which 
a   mental    system    appropriates   a    new    element,    or 
otherwise  receives  a  fresh  determination."      It  is  one 
case  of  blending,  sometimes   leading   to  the    repro- 
duction   of   a    former   context  ;    but   the   term    has 
special    reference    to    the    modifications    which    are 
produced    in   the   new  element  by   its   incorporation 
with    the    old.      In    this    respect    it    is    not    unlike 
Wundt's    assimilation.      It    is   important    to    remark 
that  the  old  element  itself  may,  or  indeed   imtst^  be 
modified  in  the  process.  ~  We  cannot  treat  the  old 
elements,  the  "  apperceiving  mass,"  as  being  entirely 
active,   while  the    new   element    is    entirely    passive, 
and  merely  allows  itself  to  be  appropriated   without 
exercising   any   influence   on    its    appropriator.      On 
this  point  James  quotes   from   Steinthal   as   follows  : 
"  Although   the  a  priori  moment   commonly  shows 
itself  to   be   the    more    powerful,   Apperceptiofi-pro- 
cesses  can    perfectly  well   occur  in   which   the    new 
observation  transforms  or  enriches  the  apperceiving 
groups   of  ideas.      A    child    who   hitherto    has    seen 
none  but    four-cornered   tables   apperceives   a  round 
one  as  a  table,  but    by  this  the  apperceiving  mass 
('  table ')    is   enriched.      To   his    previous    knowledge 
of  tables  comes  this  new  feature,  that  they  need  not 
be  four-cornered,  but  may  be  round."      In   this  way 
the  doctrine  connects  with  that  of  Connotation  and 
Denotation,  illustrating  the  defectiveness  of  the  view 


r. 


T7  ^ 


IV  THE  ORGANISATION  OF  INTELLIGENCE         ^41 

according  to  which  they  vary  inversely  ;  by  adding 
to  the  kinds  of  things  <2^^'noted  by  a  term,  the  child 
adds  also  to  the  qualities  connoted  by  it. 

This  influence  of  the  mind  upon  perception,  which 
constitutes  what  is  known  as  apperception,  is  capable 
of  infinite  illustration.  The  child  who  called  a  fern 
a  "  pot  of  green  feathers "  interpreted  the  novel 
object  by  an  acquired  disposition  ;  he  saw  what  he 
had  seen  before,  not  what  the  country  child  would  sec. 
The  different  perceptions  which  different  people  will 
have  of  the  same  object  can  only  be  explained  by 
the  contents  of  their  minds,  which  have  interpreted 
the  perception  differently  in  each  case.  "  On  a 
particular  occasion  during  the  recent  visit  of  the 
Empress  of  Germany  to  London  it  became  the  duty 
of  the  reporters  of  the  public  journals  to  describe 
Her  Imperial  Majesty's  dress.  T/ie  Times  stated 
that  the  Empress  was  in  *  gold  brocade,'  while 
according  to  the  Daily' Nezvs  she  wore  a  'sumptuous 
white  silk  dress.'  The  Standard,  however,  took 
another  view — '  The  Empress  wore  something  which 
we  trust  it  is  not  vulgar  to  call  light  mauve.'  On 
the  other  hand,  the  Daily  Chronicle  was  hardly  in 
accord  with  any  of  the  others — '  To  us  it  seemed 
almost  a  sea-green,  and  yet  there  was  now  a  cream 
and  now  an  ivory  sheen  to  it'  "  (Quoted  from  Globe, 
in  Rooper  on  "  Object-teaching.")  It  is  the  old  truth, 
that  "  the  eye  can  only  see  what  it  brings  with  it 
the  power  of  seeing,"  expanded  into  a  whole  theory 
of  mind.  It  may  be  illustrated  in  a  wider  way  from 
the  varying  conceptions  of  history  ;  our  "  histories  " 
are  the  offspring  of  our  current  interests. 

The  psychical  elements  which  form  the  contents 
of  the  mind  are  so   grouped   and   interconnected   as 


42  PSYCHOLOGY  OF  THE  MORAL  SELF  lect. 

to  constitute  what  are  technically  known  as  Ap- 
percipient  masses  or  systems.  M.  Paulhan  (Stout's 
Psychology)  compares  this  mental  grouping  to  the 
organisation  within  a  commonwealth.  Some  of  the 
systems  may  be  very  simple,  while  others  are  very 
complex  ;  the  simpler  ones  will  be  generally  sub- 
ordinate to  the  complex  ones,  and  throughout  there 
will  be  more  or  less  interaction.  Systems  may 
compete  with  each  other,  they  may  also  co-operate. 
They  will  compete  when,  and  in  so  far  as,  they 
tend  to  exclude  each  other  from  contact  with  a 
given  presentation  ;  difficulties  in  classifying  any 
new  object  or  "  specimen  "  will  be  due  to  this  rivalry 
between  appercipient  systems,  or  indecision  as  to 
which  of  two  interests  we  will  sacrifice.  On  the 
other  hand  they  will  co-operate  in  so  far  as  they 
excite  each  other  by  some  coherence  between  them. 
A  system  is  strengthened  in  competition  by  the 
number  of  co-operating  systems  which  are  excited, 
so  to  say,  on  its  side.  By  their  adherence  it  gains  in 
weight  and  interest,  and  gradually  drives  its  rival 
from  the  field.  Appercipient  masses  are  the  ideas 
which  are  more  or  less  dominant  pro  tern.,  and  they 
will  vary  in  prominence  according  to  the  interest 
before  the  mind,  whether  this  interest  be  internally  or 
externally  originated.      They  "  rise  to  the  occasion." 

Generic  ideas  are  in  this  sense  appercipient 
masses.  By  blending  they  reinforce  that  element 
of  the  presentation  which  has  a  common  content 
with  them,  and  the  other  elements  which  they  do 
not  share  are  thrust  out  of  sight,  unless  some  other 
appercipient  mass  is  awakened  to  receive  them. 

As  an  instance  of  the  way  in  which  the  dominant 
mass  determines  what  content   shall   hold   the  field. 


IV  THE  ORGANISATION  OF  INTELLIGENCE  43 

we  may  note  the  effect  of  context  in  determining 
the  interpretation  we  put  upon  words.  The  word 
"  secular "  has  two  meanings  ;  and  if  it  stands  in 
isolation,  there  is  no  way  of  deciding  what  meaning 
is  to  be  attached  to  it  ;  probably  the  most  common 
one  will  be  suggested.  But  in  reading  the  line 
"  Through  all  the  secular  to  be,"  the  force  of  the 
context  is  so  strong  as  not  only  to  determine  the 
meaning,  but  in  some  cases  as  to  exclude  even  the 
suggestion  of  the  alternative.  The  same  is  true 
of  all  words  in  so  far  as  they  are  found  in  a  living 
context,  and  not  in  the  isolation  of  the  spelling- 
book. 

Not  only  may  the  systems  of  appercipient  masses 
be  compared  to  organisations  of  persons  ;  they  actu- 
ally constitute  their  common  mind  and  will.  To 
say  that  certain  persons  have  common  interests 
means  that  in  this  or  that  respect  their  minds  are 
similarly  or  correlatively  organised,  that  they  will 
react  in  the  same  or  correlative  ways  upon  given 
presentations.  It  is  this  identity  of  mental  organisa- 
tion which  is  the  psychological  justification  for  the 
doctrine  of  the  General  Will. 

Passing  from  Apperception  we  come  to  Associa- 
tion. In  philosophical  interest  it  is  subordinate  to 
apperception,  which  is  almost  equivalent  to  the 
organised  working  of  the  mind,  and  this  carries  us 
to  the  higher  stages  of  conscious  life  ;  but  as  the 
macJimcry  of  the  mind  Association  is  fundamental. 
The  doctrine  really  dates  from  Plato  {Phaedo,  73  sq.). 
His  point  is  to  bring  the  whole  process  of  knowledge 
under  the  law  of  reproduction,  in  order  to  establish 
his  difdfjLV7]at<i  ;  it  is  the  recovery  by  Association  of 
mental   possessions   which   we   have   lost.      For   him 


44  PSYCHOLOGY  OF  THE  MORAL  SELF  lect. 

the  process  of  reproduction  is  the  same  as  that  of 
knowledge.  All  given  presentations  act  by  sug- 
gestion, and  therefore  come  under  the  general  head 
of  reproduction.  In  Phaedo,  y6,  he  clearly  indicates 
cases  of  association  by  contiguity  and  resemblance. 
"  For  we  saw  that  this  was  possible  :  that  when  per- 
ceiving something,  whether  by  sight  or  hearing  or 
any  other  kind  of  sense,  one  may,  from  this  percep- 
tion, get  a  suggestion  of  something  else  which  one 
had  forgotten,  to  which  the  first  mentioned  was 
contiguous,  though  unlike,  or  to  which  it  was  like." 

Aristotle,  again,  suggests  as  the  laws  of  Associa- 
tion —  Resemblance,  Contrast,  Co-existence,  and 
Succession,  or,  combining  the  last  two,  Contiguity. 

Contrast  is  now  admitted  to  be  a  case  of  con- 
tiguity, and  similarity  remains  as  the  great  recent 
crux  (see  Bradley,  Logic,  and  Ward,  /.r.).  It  is  a 
difficulty  of  principle.  Similarity  only  exists  when 
two  ideas  are  before  the  mind,  and  therefore  it 
cannot  be  used  to  reproduce  one  of  those  two. 
Moreover,  it  is  only  needed  as  an  explanation  if  we 
regard  images  as  simple  ;  if  we  admit  that  they  are 
all  complex,  it  can  be  reduced  to  contiguity  (see 
Lecture  IL).  The  given  elements  abc  reproduce 
their  former  context  by  contiguity,  and  that  former 
context  persists  and  is  compared  with  the  given 
object.  Take  the  case  of  the  portrait,  which  Plato 
uses  ;  the  portrait  consists  of  elements  abcde,  the 
idea  of  the  actual  person  consists  of  elements  abcfg. 
The  identical  abc  suggests  fg,  with  which  it  is  con- 
tiguous in  the  other  context,  and  then  the  portrait 
is  compared  with  the  idea  of  the  actual  person. 

James  points  out  {Text-Book,  p.  270)  that  there 
is  no  tendency  to  this   recall  by  similarity  amongst 


IV  THE  ORGANISATION  OF  INTELLIGENCE  45 

simple  ideas  ;  it  is  only  where  complex  ideas  have 
an  identical  element  that  we  find  it.  In  what  he 
calls  "  focalised  recall,"  the  active  element,  after 
awakening  its  new  set  of  associates,  contimics  per- 
sistently active  along  with  them  ;  that  is,  it  is  an 
element  identical  in  the  two  ideas. 

Contiguity. — It  is  no  doubt  an  improvement  to 
reduce  association  to  contiguity,  as  Ward  and  James 
have  done  ;  but  the  question  of  the  elements  betwecit 
zvhicJi  the  contiguity  or  connection  operates  still 
remains.  The  principle  that  Association  marries 
only  universals  has  been  discussed  in  dealing  with 
Psychological  Atomism.  When  the  identical  element 
in  operation  has  a  number  of  associates,  what  deter- 
mines which  will  be  recalled?  (See  James,  p.  264  ; 
Bradley,  Logic.)  It  resolves  itself  into  a  question 
of  apperception  ;  those  associates  which  are  in  con- 
nection with  the  dominant  appercipient  system  will 
be  introduced,  while  others  will  be  neglected. 

The  nature  of  identity  is  at  the  root  of  the 
question.  We  might  represent  it  by  a  forked  line 
Y ;  two  lines  having  an  identical  part  Certainly  it  is 
not  singularity  (see  Ward,  Lc,  p.  81),  for  this  excludes 
difference.  The  way  in  which  the  whole  question 
of  Atomism  is  here  involved  may  be  brought  out  by 
asking  ourselves  in  what  our  ideal  of  knowledge 
consists.  Is  it  "A  is  A,"  the  mere  repetition  of  the 
same  concept  ?  or  is  it  "  man  is  animal,"  the  con- 
nection of  two  concepts  by  an  element  common  to 
both? 

The  distinction  has  been  drawn  between  material 
and  individual  identity,  but  perhaps  it  is  not  an 
ultimate  one.  Individual  identity  is  one  of  content, 
in  which   we   may  treat   a   new  beginning  as   consti- 


46  PSYCHOLOGY  OF  THE  MORAL  SELF      lect.  iv 

tuting  an  essential  difference  or  not,  according  to 
its  laws  of  change.  If  interruption  in  time  is  to  be 
regarded  as  fatal  to  individual  identity,  what  becomes 
of  the  identity  of  my  mind,  with  its  periodical 
lapses  ?  or,  again,  of  the  House  of  Commons  as  an 
element  in  the  British  Constitution  ? 

To  sum  up  :   All  cognition  is  Identity  asserting 
itself. 


LECTURE    V 

SELF-CONSCIOUSNESS 

I .  Its  Relation  to  Consciousness.  —  Regarded  as 
phases  in  the  development  of  mind,  consciousness 
and  self- consciousness  are  not  strictly  successive, 
although  of  course  the  higher  tends  to  become 
predominant  in  the  later  stages  of  development. 
According  to  our  view  of  self-consciousness,  a  savage 
must  have  his  form  of  it  (perhaps  even  the  higher 
animals  have  something  corresponding  to  it)  in  his 
feelings  of  success  or  of  being  equal  to  what  has  to 
be  done.  In  quite  an  elementary  stage  of  develop- 
ment we  have  the  feeling  of  what  is  expected  of  us, 
or  necessary,  in  order  that  the  world  may  recognise 
us  ;  the  feeling  that  finds  expression,  e.g.,  in  saying 
"  (^a  me  connait "  instead  of  "  I  know  it." 

2.  Its  Relation  to  Cognition. — Consciousness,  on 
the  whole,  we  have  classed  mainly  under  cognition  ; 
it  is  necessarily  a  more  one-sided  state  of  mind  than 
self-consciousness.  As  its  type  we  took  the  Judg- 
ment of  Perception  ;  or,  on  a  large  scale.  Natural 
Science.  The  attitude  of  consciousness  is  :  I  k}ioiv 
this  object,  which  is  given,  which  is  simply  con- 
trasted with  nic\      The  subject   in  this  state  of  mind 


48  PSYCHOLOGY  OF  THE  MORAL  SELF  lect. 

is    very   abstract,   or  indeed    practically   disappears ; 
the  self  is  felt  rather  than  reflected  on. 

Self- consciousness  has,  of  course,  its  cognitive 
side,  but  it  can  hardly  be  included  under  cognition. 
In  explaining  the  origin  even  of  consciousness,  we 
had  to  take  action  into  account,  and  this  is  still  more 
the  case  with  self-consciousness.  When  reflection  is 
attracted  to  the  self,  which  is  more  or  less  of  a  unity, 
the  will  cannot  be  disregarded,  though  in  cognition 
we  may  perhaps  abstract  from  it.  As  Science 
corresponds  to  Consciousness,  so  Philosophy  corre- 
sponds to  Self-consciousness  ;  as  compared  with  the 
abstract  sciences  it  is  a  return  to  the  concrete,  and 
in  it  again  we  come  nearer  to  the  element  of  Will. 
It  expresses  the  attitude  of  the  self  to  experience, 
and  in  this  sense  experimental  science  has  some 
affinity  to  it 

3.  TJie  Element  of  Will. — The  general  nature  of 
self- consciousness  is  that  it  recognises  itself  as  an 
object,  which  passes  into  recognising  the  object  as 
itself.  Consciousness  keeps  the  two,  the  self  and 
the  object,  distinct  and  apart  (see  James's  Analysis 
of  tJie  Self).  In  producing  this  recognition  the 
element  of  self-assertion  is  plainly  operative.  We 
may  recall  the  effect  ascribed  to  disappointment  in 
generating  consciousness  ;  successful  self-assertion 
against  the  object  tends  to  produce  the  feeling  that 
its  independence  or  resistance  is  a  sham,  that  it  is 
not  really  alien.  Indeed,  as  Hegel  points  out,  we 
do  not  really  believe  that  the  objects  of  the  external 
world  exist  in  their  own  right,  since  we  go  so  far 
as  to  eat  and  drink  them.  We  have  a  parallel  to 
this    in    Cognition    when   we    discover   that    science, 


V  SELF-CONSCIOUSNESS  49 

"  the  reality  of  things,"  is,  in  fact,  a  system  of 
thoughts.  Then  "  otherness "  takes  a  last  refuge 
in  the  "  Thing  in  itself,"  which  is  a  mere  thought  ; 
"  we  lift  the  curtain  which  hides  the  last  recess,  and 
find  that  there  is  nothing  to  be  seen,  unless,  indeed, 
we  go  behind  the  curtain  ourselves,  both  for  the 
purpose  of  seeing  and  in  order  that  there  may  be 
something  to  see"  (Hegel,  PJienom.  p.  126).  Then 
at  last  we  recognise  that  all  along  this  process  has 
in  some  sense  or  another  been  within  the  self;  that 
the  object  is  not  alien,  but  is  always  passing  over 
into  the  self 

4.  The  Recognition  of  Persons. — Hegel  illustrates 
the  transition  from  Consciousness  to  Self-conscious- 
ness by  a  social  evolution  —  that  from  slavery  to 
civilised  equality  in  a  commonwealth.  The  important 
element  to  him  is  the  element  of  recognition  of 
another's  personality,  or  of  our  own  personality  by 
another  ;  and  this  in  its  lowest  form  exists  as  the 
result  of  a  struggle,  such  as  the  struggle  between 
slave  and  master.  (Compare  also  the  struggle 
between  Beatrice  and  Benedick.)  The  slave,  though 
in  one  sense  a  mere  thing,  is  capable  of  recognition, 
and  has  accepted  the  position  of  subservience  in 
such  a  way  that  he  reflects  his  master's  will  or  self- 
assertion,  and  thereby  makes  it  aware  of  itself 
Then  by  a  long  process  of  evolution  this  inequality 
is  stripped  off,  until  in  a  civilised  commonwealth 
we  have  the  reciprocal  recognition  of  free  individuals, 
in  whom  the  same  self- consciousness  responds  to 
itself,  and  constitutes  a  system  of  rights  and  duties 
and  aims  which  is  the  positive  substance  of  self- 
consciousness.      If  we  compare  self-consciousness   in 

E 


50  PSYCHOLOGY  OF  THE  MORAL  SELF  lect. 

the  bad  sense,  we  find  that  the  term  is  used  when 
the  self  is  indeed  aware  of  itself  but  cannot  count 
upon  a  positive  place,  upon  that  definite  recognition 
which  constitutes  its  reality.  It  is  the  form  of 
self- consciousness  without  an  adequate  content. 
Speaking  generally,  it  is  only  in  the  medium  of 
recognition  that  a  realised  self- consciousness  can 
exist  ;  outside  of  this  medium  we  get  either  the 
hero  or  the  lunatic.  This  is  important  for  the 
theory  of  rights. 

In  recent  Psychology  this  view  is  represented  by 
the  account  of  the  self  as  a  person  (Ward,  /.<".,  p.  84),  or 
of  the  social  self  (James).  It  may  be  questioned  how 
far  the  conflict  with  other  selves,  and  recognition  by 
them,  are  necessary  to  the  psychological  development 
of  self-consciousness.  All  that  seems  necessary  in 
theory  is  collision  against  our  object,  with  enough 
impression  on  it  to  mark  it  as  "  mine."  Is  the  body^ 
as  the  source  of  pleasure  and  pain,  sufficient  for  the 
purpose  ?  It  is  extraordinary  how  much  it  takes 
to  start  self-consciousness,  especially  in  the  absence 
of  looking-glasses  ;  ^  in  the  early  part  of  a  healthy 
life  it  hardly  occurs  to  us  that  we  have  an  appearance 
at  all  ;  and  we  shall  find  that  it  is  usually  the 
estimate  of  others,  or  our  estimate  of  them,  that 
suggests  it.  A  tiger,  or  even  a  savage,  can  only  feel 
the  effect  of  its  own  appearance  from  seeing  its 
fellows.  Language,  self-decoration,  sexual  selection, 
the  family,  everything  which  helps  to  fix  the  atten- 
tion on  those  persistent  presentation  groups  which 
are  in  definite  relation  with  the  self,  must  help.      To 

^  Cf.  "  Cas.  Tell  me,  good  Brutus,  can  you  see  your  face? 
Di'iit.   No,  Cassius  ;  for  the  eye  sees  not  itself, 
But  by  reflection,  by  some  other  things." 


V  SELF-CONSCIOUSNESS  51 

sum   up  :   Self- consciousness,  as  lue  experience   it,  is 
for  the  most  part  social. 

5.  The  Meanings  of  Self. — James  makes  a  useful 
distinction  between  "  I  "  and  "  me "  ;  the  self  as 
knower  and  the  self  as  known.  The  known  self  or 
me  he  distinguishes  again  into  the  material  inc,  the 
social  me,  and  the  spiritual  me.  These  are  not  so 
much  phases  as  different  aspects  of  the  developed 
self,  an  analysis  of  what  can  be  called  "  mine  "  into 
divisions  which  correspond  roughly  to  (i.)  property 
or  products,  (ii.)  reputation,  (iii.)  mind.  All  that  is 
in  any  sense  mine  goes  to  make  up  the  me,  and 
from  the  first  more  is  mine  than  my  own  body. 
Perhaps  also  less.  According  to  James  our  social 
selves  are  other  people's  ideas  of  us  ;  but  to  this  we 
should  add  that  they  are  other  people's  ideas  of  us 
as  reflected  into  our  oivn  ideas.  These  analyses  are 
very  important  for  questions  of  altruism  and  egoism, 
and  we  shall  have  more  to  say  of  them.  But  if  we 
compare  pp.  184,  194,  195,  we  shall  find  that  James 
does  not  make  full  use  of  his  analyses.  He  comes 
to  use  the  expressions  "bodily  self-seeking"  and 
"  egoism "  quite  uncritically,  in  the  vulgar  sense ; 
forgetting,  e.g.,  that  the  material  or  bodily  me,  as  he 
has  described  it,  would  include  quite  impersonal 
results,  such  as  an  artist's  pictures. 

Ward's  analysis  is  perhaps  more  difficult.  He 
distinguishes  the  Bodily  Self  the  Inner  Self  and  the 
Self  as  Person.  These  arc  more  like  phases  than 
elements,  and  we  may  note  that  he  uses  the 
expression  "  first  of  all  "  in  speaking  of  the  Bodily 
Self.  But  from  the  first  the  core  of  experiences 
identified  with  feeling   probably  includes  more  than 


52  PSYCHOLOGY  OF  THE  MORAL  SELF  lect. 

the  body  group  ;  it  includes  whatever  has  not  been 
separated  by  special  division,  such  as  experiences  of 
the  home  and  family,  and  there  seems  no  reason  to 
think  that  these  would  be  sifted  out  as  we  go  back 
to  more  primitive  stages  where  discrimination  is  less. 
Of  course  we  must  not  think  of  an  accurate  percep- 
tion of  our  bodies  at  an  early  stage  :  that  develops 
with  the  spatial  discrimination  of  objects  in  general. 

The  Inner  Self  (see  also  Sully)  ^  seems  to  be 
the  mind  considered  as  a  thing  inside  the  body,  like 
the  ghost  or  soul  which  the  savage  believes  in,  and 
located  perhaps  in  the  breast,  where  emotion  seems 
to  be  felt.  There  is  a  difficulty  in  distinguishing 
between  content  and  locality.  The  Homeric  Greek 
says,  "  I  too  have  a  mind  fashioned  in  my  breast,  in 
no  way  defective."  He  identifies  the  seat  of  mind 
with  that  of  emotional  disturbance,  but  the  content 
of  his  self — his  body  and  arms  and  ancestry  and 
actions — is  not  confined  to  this  mind-thing.  Here 
we  have  the  germ  of  the  distinction  between  the 
Psychological  and  Logical  point  of  view.  The 
savage  Jias  his  mind  ;  it  is  not  his  whole  world,  but 
a  thing,  a  part  of  himself,  just  as  he  has  eyes  and 
ears  and  feet,  and  a  certain  character  or  fame. 

True  Self-consciousness  begins  with  the  Self  as  a 
Person^  as  we  have  explained  it  above.  It  is 
characterised,  as  Ward  says,  by  the  not-self  reacting 
upon  the  self;  ix.  by  reciprocal  recognition  in  which 
the  not-self  becomes  a  second  self  with  a  correspond- 
ing appercipient  group.  A  person  is  a  subject  of 
rights  and  duties,  and  is  aware  of  his  own  qualities 
as  conditioning  his  own  rights  and  duties  :  "  I  am  a 
workman  or  teacher,"  etc. 

^  HiDiian  Mind,  i,  477- 


V  SELF-CONSCIOUSNESS  53 

Altruism  and  the  Self. — If  we  look  at  what  Sully 
says  of  the  reflected  self  in  children  we  find  that,  as 
also  in  James,  the  contrast  of  extra-regarding  impulses 
and  self-love  seems  inconsistent  with  our  conception 
of  the  self,  and  very  confusing.  The  writers  seem  to 
oscillate  between  the  "  mind-thing  "  inside  the  body 
and  the  content  of  the  mind,  which  includes,  e.g.^  our 
family.  We  must  ask  to  wJiat  self  are  the  extra- 
regarding  impulses  external  ?  According  to  our 
answer  to  this  we  get  exactly  opposite  views  of  their 
nature. 

The  general  form  of  Self-consciousness  is  Reflection 
or  "  Internal  Perception,"  and  this  corresponds  to 
James's  Spiritual  Self.  It  is  expressed  as  "  This  is 
my  thought,  or  will,  or  feeling,"  of  which  the  central 
core  is  "  This  Is  my  idea  of  myself,"  and  "  I  am  I  "  ; 
thus  it  is  always  empirical. 

This  implies  the  distinction  between  the  self 
which  knows  and  the  self  which  is  known  ;  James's 
distinction  between  "  I  "  and  "  me."  There  are  three 
matters  in  which  his  account — which  is  very  good — 
needs  emphasising. 

(i.)  The  Self  as  Me  (  =  all  that  is  mine)  includes 
the  object  and  relative  not-me  as  well  as  the  subject. 
It  is  the  whole  of  my  mental  contents  ;  for  of  course 
the  matters  about  which  I  habitually  think  modify 
my  individuality  and  fall  within  my  mind.  It  is 
Important  to  distinguish  my  self  as  =  "  mine,"  includ- 
ing my  past  self  and  the  self  which  I  repudiate,  from 
self  as  the  momentary  subject  in  knowledge  or  action. 
There  seems  to  be  a  tendency  in  Ward  to  cut  down 
the  self  towards  the  subject;  and  James's  classification 
is  not  quite  distinct,  e.g.^  as  to  the  line  between  the 
material   self  and  the   social   self.      My  family   is   In 


54  PSYCHOLOGY  OF  THE  MORAL  SELF  lect. 

the  former,  and  I  as  reflected  in  the  minds  of  my 
family  am  in  the  latter.  But  what  he  aims  at  is 
including  in  the  self  all  that  in  any  way  belongs  to 
me,  is  "  mine." 

(ii.)  Within  the  me  or  mine,  the  relative  "  not-me  " 
and  the  "  I  "  have  to  a  great  extent  interchangeable 
contents.  What  is  mine  is  a  fluctuating  material 
(James).  Our  current  course  of  ideas,  e.g.,  may  jar 
with  some  distinct  line  of  thought  which  we  wish  to 
pursue ;  then  we  fight  against  it,  and  it  thereby 
becomes  a  relative  "  not-me  "  within  the  "  mine,"  just 
as  much  as  the  noise  of  a  barrel-ors^an.  Ap;ain, 
we  may  stand  aside  from  our  past  self,  and  pass 
judgment  upon  it  (Ward) :  "  I  was  not  my  self  when 
I  did  that."  Even  the  elements  in  our  present 
emotional  state  we  may  set  over  against  us  as  objects, 
and  say  they  are  wrong,  they  ought  to  be  otherwise  ; 
that  is,  there  is  some  group  of  contents,  some  feeling 
and  idea,  which  becomes  one  with  our  innermost  core, 
and  reacts  against  the  elements  of  our  present 
emotional  state.  Then  this  group  of  contents  is  the 
"  I,"  and  the  present  emotional  state,  though  within 
the  "  me,"  is  relatively  to  it  the  "  not-me." 

This  is  not  so  hard  as  it  seems  ;  it  is  simply  the 
way  in  which  we  handle  our  experience.  There  is 
no  doubt  that  within  our  whole  mental  content  there  is 
a  continual  fluctuation  between  the  "I"  and  "me"  and 
"  not-me."  We  really  can  take  the  self  to  be  almost 
anything  in  our  experience,  and  in  the  same  way  we 
can  regard  anything  in  our  experience  as  our  not- 
self;  we  are  somewhat  differently  identified  with 
every  change  of  attention.  For  instance,  I  may  feel 
myself  an  extension  lecturer,  and  as  such  criticise 
the  regular   University  teachers,  or  vice  versa.      Or 


V  SELF-CONSCIOUSNESS  55 

again,  I  may  contrast  my  holiday  life  and  town  life  ; 
when  I  am  in  the  one,  I  criticise  the  other  ;  or  to 
take  an  example  of  the  same  thinc^  within  a  smaller 
circuit,  I  may  criticise  my  self  as  I  tliink  I  am  at  the 
moment,  e.g.  as  I  am  in  my  holiday  life.  By 
analysing  what  I  feel  my  self  to  be,  I  drag  it  out  to 
be  looked  at,  and  in  so  doing  pass  over  as  much  of 
the  self  as  I  can,  from  the  subject  into  the  object  ; 
the  "  I  "  passes  into  the  "  me  "  and  the  "  not-me." 

(iii.)  In  Psyschology,  then,  the  "  I  "  is  not  the  pure 
or  abstract  ego  ;  that  is  a  mere  abstraction  of  the 
attribute  of  knowing.  The  "I"  in  Psychology  is  always 
accompanied  by  content,  and  this  content  is  not 
permanent  or  unchangeable,  or  essentially  attached 
to  the  self. 

6.  This  brings  us  to  the  question  of  Personal 
Identity  (see  James,  pp.  201  sq.).  In  discussing  it 
the  principle  to  follow  is,  that  it  is  of  the  same  nature 
as  the  identity  of  any  other  thing  ;  i.e.  that  it  does 
not  exclude  change,  and  can  only  be  stated  relatively 
to  some  purpose. 

For  practical  purposes,  e.g.  in  law,  we  go  in  the 
main  by  bodily  identity  ;  but  this  is  at  once  sub- 
jected to  reservations,  and  bodily  identity  is  only 
regarded  as  a  sigji  of  personal  identity,  not  as  con- 
stituting it.  There  is  a  difficulty  in  speaking  of  the 
"  same  mind,"  since  the  mind  does  not  seem  to  have 
continuous  existence.  Great  psychological  interest 
attaches  to  those  qualities  which  bind  experiences 
together  into  a  single  experience,  in  spite  of  changes 
and  interruptions  ;  the  basis  consists  of  bodily  feeling, 
and — as  James  points  out — a  mass  of  identical 
elements  which,  though  they  alter,  do  not   as   a   rule 


56  rSYCHOLOGY  OF  THE  MORAL  SELF  lect. 

all  alter  at  once.  But  identity  does  not  depend 
upon  the  individual's  sense  of  unity  in  his  experience 
or  memory,  for  this  may  be  false  ;  it  is  not  memory, 
but  only  the  facts  as  truly  remembered  that  seem  to 
make  actual  identity.  The  abstract  "  I  "  or  supposed 
pure  ego  will  not  help  us,  for  identity  must  be  a 
content,  something  that  we  take  to  be  essential  ;  a 
pure  form  can  have  neither  identity  nor  change. 
James  deals  v^^ith  limiting  cases  in  his  account  of 
morbid  egos.  The  basis  of  self-feeling  (bodily 
sensations,  etc.)  being  cut  in  two,  reproduction  cannot 
produce  it  as  a  single  experience  ;  a  brings  up  bcd^ 
and  y5  brings  up  efg^  but  a  and  yS  with  their 
respective  associations  exclude  each  other. 

Practically,  our  result  is  that  the  question  cannot 
be  answered  in  general ;  there  is  no  essential  in- 
dividual, and  no  essence  apart  from  a  teleological 
point  of  view.  We  must  define  our  question  by  a 
statement  of  purpose  :  Is  this  man  still  the  same  in 
intellect^  in  character^  in  his  legal  obligations^  or  in 
nationality  ? — then  we  can  find  a  definite  answer. 
The  practical  fact  that  removes  any  grave  difficulty 
is,  that  though  we  may  say  that  a  man  ceases  to  be 
himself,  we  have  as  a  rule  no  reason  to  raise  the 
question  as  to  whether  he  can  become  some  one 
else  who  already  exists.  Our  system  of  responsibility 
would  be  seriously  shaken  if  bodily  identity  were 
no  longer  a  sufficient  guide  ;  if,  that  is,  I  could  enter 
your  body  to  do  something  wrong,  and  then  return, 
as  has  been  suggested  in  cases  of  hypnotism. 

7.  Feeling  in  Self. — All  the  elements  of  the  "  I," 
the  "  me,"  and  the  relative  "  not-me,"  are  always  held 
together  by  feelings  of  which  the  nucleus   is  probably 


V  SELF-CONSCIOUSNESS  57 

the  somatic  consciousness  with  its  pleasure  and  pain. 
This  feeling  is  qualified  by  everything  which  falls 
into  the  background  of  consciousness.  Our  clothing, 
the  habitual  surroundings  of  our  room,  warmth  and 
cold,  habits  and  recollections, — myriads  of  things  like 
these  keep  up  a  habitual  feeling  of  one's  particular 
life.  This  is  always  present  more  or  less  in  all  that 
we  do  or  think,  and  it  is  what,  empirically  speaking, 
maintains  our  sense  of  continuity.  We  all  know  how 
in  some  mode  of  life  which  we  take  up  intermittently 
a  special  continuity  forms  itself:  we  fall  into  the 
ways  of  the  place  or  people,  and  feel  as  if  we  had 
never  been  away.  This  comes  from  the  innumerable 
details  which  modify  the  background  of  feeling,  and 
so  reinstate  the  particular  self  that  belongs  to  the 
life  there.  How  far  we  might  be  broken  up  by  an 
absolute  change  and  clean  cut  from  the  past  is  not 
often  tried,  but  we  get  an  approach  to  it  in  some 
cases  of  so-called  "  double  personality,"  or  even  of 
"  conversion." 

Analogous  to  this,  but  more  reflective,  is  self- 
feeling  in  the  sense  of  a  special  emotion  such  as  pride 
or  vanity.  This  supervenes  upon  the  whole  structure 
of  personality,  instead  of  forniing  the  base  of  it,  but 
there  is  no  doubt  that  it  acts  to  some  extent  in  the 
same  way  as  bodily  and  general  feeling  in  strengthen- 
ing the  feeling  of  continuous  personality. 


LECTURE    VI 

FEELING 

Feeling  has  many  kindred  terms  in  our  vocabulary, 
such  as  passion,  affection,  emotion,  and  sensation. 
Sensation,  however,  has  now  acquired  a  somewhat 
different  meaning,  in  which  it  is  generally  used  ;  and 
all  originally  indicated  more  of  passivity  or  receptive- 
ness.  We  may  see  what  a  curious  change  has  taken 
place  in  the  usage  of  the  terms  by  comparing 
passionate  or  affectionate  with  passive  or  affected  in 
the  sense  of  being  easily  affected  by  pity  or  the 
weather  or  the  like.  "  Passionate  "  or  "  in  a  passion  ' 
we  should  now  consider  to  be  a  very  active  state. 
"  Feeling,"  though  originally  about  equivalent  to 
"  passion,"  has  retained  its  passive  sense  ;  irdQo^  is 
Greek  for  "  passion  or  feeling "  ;  TVaayeiv  or  pati 
means  to  suffer,  to  have  something  happen  to  you. 
Emotion,  again,  seems  to  indicate  a  condition  of 
activity  as  the  result  of  being  acted  upon,  i.e.  of 
passivity  (cf  French  s^emouvoir). 

Seitsation  seems  to  be  meant  for  an  active  form, 
although  it  is  not  a  true  derivative  from  any  verb. 
It  Jias  even  been  used  popularly  of  states  that  belong 
to  feeling  in  the  narrowest  sense,  i.e.  of  pleasure  and 
pain  ;   and  it  still  has  a  peculiar  use  for  a  shocking 


LECT.  VI  FEELING  59 

or  striking  emotion,  as  when  we  speak  of  a  sensation 
novel  or  a  sensation  in  court.  But  on  the  whole  it 
is  now  used,  especially  in  Psychology,  to  indicate 
something  belonging  to  cognition  ;  a  mental  element 
referred  to  one  or  other  of  the  definite  five  senses 
(probably  from  analogy  with  the  word  sense).  Then, 
again,  feeling  is  used  for  one  special  kind  of  sensation, 
toucJi,  and  sometimes  also  for  other  sensations  which 
are  not  easily  classified,  e.g.  for  warmth  and  cold,  for 
the  sensation  experienced  during  the  motions  of  the 
limbs,  and  for  the  organic  sensations.  This  is  per- 
haps due  to  a  tendency  to  regard  the  less  definite 
contents  as  "  feeling,"  this  being  the  more  general 
term. 

It  will  help  us  to  understand  the  use  of  these 
terms  if  we  say  a  few  words  as  to  their  history. 
The  connection  of  Feeling,  in  the  sense  of  emotion, 
with  passiveness  probably  came  from  the  idea  of 
Reason  as  being  the  essential  activity  of  mind,  for 
this  led  to  the  emotional  states  being  regarded  as 
forced  upon  the  mind  from  without  and,  as  it  were, 
upsetting  it  ;  they  were  always  looked  upon  as  given, 
not  inferred  or  made. 

It  was  this  comparison  and  contrast  between 
"  feelings  "  and  intelligence  which  struck  Descartes 
and  his  school,  by  whom  they  were  treated  as 
"  confused  modes  of  thought."  One  characteristic 
of  the  so-called  feelings  is  certainly  brought  out  by 
this  way  of  describing  them,  i.c.  that  they  are 
distinguishable  amongst  each  other  b}-  reason  of  a 
content  or  object.  If,  for  instance,  we  consider  the 
difference  between  Anger  and  Fear,  we  find  it  to 
consist  in  our  relation  towards  a  certain  evil.  Per- 
haps,  also,    it   is   true   that  during  an    emotion    the 


6o  PSYCHOLOGY  OF  THE  MORAL  SELF  lect. 

content  is  not  usually  clear  ;  a  man  could  not  or 
would  not  analyse  his  emotion  while  undergoing  it ; 
and  then  in  a  sense  it  is  obscure.  But  there  is 
always  something  more  than  the  content  and  its 
obscurity  to  be  taken  account  of;  the  theory  failed 
to  explain  the  peculiar  nature  of  feeling,  its  aspect 
as  to  pleasure  and  pain. 

In  modern  times  Kant  was  the  first  to  definitely 
place  this  "  feeling  of  pleasure  and  pain "  on  an 
independent  basis  as  a  third  capacity  of  the  soul, 
neither  cognitive  nor  appetitive  {Kritik  derr.  Verinnft^ 
p.  1 6).  This  is  the  current  view  of  to-day,  and  we 
shall  return  to  it  directly ;  the  difficulty  of  the 
transition  to  it  is  that  our  "  feelings  "  are  not  exactly 
modification  or  species  of  "  feeling "  itself  in  the 
strict  sense. 

Just  at  Kant's  time  there  was  an  outburst  of  a 
view  contrary  to  his,  which  was  partly  owing  to  his 
"  agnostic  "  tendency.  Jacobi,  for  instance,  following 
Rousseau,  was  impressed  by  the  apparent  reality 
and  depth  of  Feeling  (as  when  we  speak  of  religious 
or  poetic  feeling),  and  regarded  it  as  an  organ  of 
spiritual  truth  ;  thus  placing  it  above  reflective  know- 
ledge, and  not  belozv,  as  Descartes  had  done.  This 
is  an  important  contribution  to  the  conception  of 
Feeling  ;  it  lays  stress  on  its  directness  or  immediate- 
ness,  through  which  it  seems  to  give  us  a  contact 
with  reality  that  nothing  else  does,  and  at  the  same 
time  it  agrees  with  the  older  view  in  insisting  on 
content,  i.e.  that  something  positive  (I  do  not  say 
definite)  seems  to  be  brought  home  to  us  in  Feeling. 
It  is,  indeed,  somewhat  of  a  paradox  ;  you  have  a 
grasp  of  something,  but  cannot  say  of  what.  Some- 
times Jacobi  called  this  faculty  Reason,  but  for  him 


VI  FEELING  6i 

it  was  always  direct  and  unreflective,  and  superior 
to  reflection.  It  is  important  to  note  that  great 
attention  was  being  paid  to  aesthetic  philosophy  at 
this  time. 

Now  of  course  the  great  idealists  could  not  let 
Feeling  stand  above  Reason — no  systematic  philoso- 
pher could  ;  nevertheless  this  view,  vehemently  as  it 
was  attacked  by  Hegel,  did  affect  his  own  theory. 
He  insists,  that  is,  on  the  directness  and  reality  of 
Feeling  ;  all  content  has  to  pass  through  the  form 
of  Feeling,  and  in  that  sense  it  might  be  said  that 
Feeling  is  the  one  revelation  of  reality.  But  then 
it  is  only  the  beginning  or  germ,  it  is  wJiat  yoic  are 
psychically,  not  zvJiat  you  know ;  its  contents  are 
dragged  out  one  by  one  and  made  objective  and 
systematic,  and  without  this  process  of  interpretation 
it  gives  no  definite  results.  Hence  in  using  it  as 
evidence  of  anything  we  are  interpreting  it,  putting 
a  meaning  into  it.  It  is,  of  course,  a  form  of 
experience  which  must  not  be  neglected  ;  but 
whether  we  give  it  the  name  of  Feeling  or  not,  is 
a  merely  verbal  matter.  Whatever  we  may  call 
it,  this  "  immediate  "  phase  of  mind  is  the  germ  both 
of  intellect  and  of  will. 

The  modern  view  (say  that  of  Ward)  on  the 
whole  goes  back  to  that  of  Kant.  Feeling,  according 
to  this  view,  is  the  pure  feeling  of  pleasure  or  pain  ; 
it  cannot  be  identified  with  either  cognition  or 
volition,  and  does  not,  as  such,  include  any  "  matter" 
or  "  content."  Upon  the  relation  of  these  aspects 
to  the  whole  psychosis  or  mental  state,  the  student 
should  read  Ward's  article  carefully  {I.e.,  p.  44)  ;  we 
have  not  three  kinds  of  state,  but  three  characters 
or  features,  in  the  whole  mental  state  at  any  moment. 


62  PSYCHOLOGY  OF  THE  MORAL  SELF  lect. 

It  follows  from  this  that  what  we  popularly  call  a 
feeling  or  emotion  —  such  as  hope,  anger,  etc. — is 
really  made  up  of  (i.)  pure  Feeling,  i.e.  a  degree  of 
pleasure  or  pain,  and  (ii.)  elements  of  presentation, 
of  sensation  or  cognition,  which  are  accompanied  by 
this  pure  Feeling. 

Pure  Feeling,  then,  in  this  limited  sense  has  no 
quality.  The  quality  or  character  of  what  is 
generally  called  a  feeling  or  emotion  comes  from 
the  sensations  or  cognitions  that  go  with  it.  For 
instance,  in  a  burning  pain  or  a  gnawing  pain,  the 
qualities  of  burning  or  gnawing  are  sensations  ;  the 
pain  is  distinct  from  them,  and  is  said  to  be 
separable  and  slower  in  arising.  The  only  charac- 
teristics belonging  to  pain  and  pleasure  as  such  are 
intensity  and  rhythm  ;  so  that  a  throbbing  pain 
may  perhaps  take  the  quality  of  throbbing  from  the 
rhythm  of  the  pain  itself.  This  agreeable  or  dis- 
agreeable accompaniment  of  a  sensation  is  called  its 
"  tone,"  and  it  seems  probable  that  all  sensations 
have  in  some  degree  this  tone,  although  it  is  often 
hardly  perceptible. 

This  account,  taken  in  connection  with  the  fact 
that  there  is  no  sign  of  a  separate  set  of  nerve-centres 
for  the  emotions  or  for  pleasure  and  pain,  seems 
to  go  a  long  way  towards  settling  the  question 
whether  pure  Feeling  is  an  object  of  cognition,  i.e. 
whether  it  is  a  presentation. 

If  the  question  were  :  "  Are  warmth  and  cold,  or 
sweetness  and  bitterness,  or  joy  and  fear  presenta- 
tions ?  "  the  answer  must  be  yes  ;  and  it  is  difficult 
to  see  how  we  can  exclude  from  the  answer  their 
respective  accompaniments  of  pleasure  and  pain,  for 
these  certainly  do  make  a  difference   to   them.      But 


VI  FEELING  63 

if  wc  ask  :  "  Is  the  pleasure  in  sweetness  or  joy  a 
separable  clement,  like  taste  or  form  or  colour,  so 
that  it  can  be  perceived  by  itself  as  a  positive 
object  ? "  the  answer  must  probably  be  no.  At  any 
rate  it  is  clear  what  is  meant  ;  if  I  say  "  it  is  hot,"  or 
"  it  is  red,"  I  convey  a  perception  to  the  hearer  ;  but 
if  I  say  "  it  is  pleasant,"  I  convey  no  perception  of  a 
special  content.  Perhaps  the  same  may  be  said  of 
such  qualities  as  beautiful  or  ugly,  cheerful  or  sombre  ; 
at  any  rate  the  abstraction  seems  to  give  rise  to  a 
difficulty  in  such  cases.  The  prevalent  opinion 
seems  to  be  that  the  positive  characters  are  perceived 
and  not  the  feeling,  but  that  the  two  are  confused. 
It  will  be  enough  here  just  to  state  the  counter 
question  as  to  whether  this  is  a  fair  account  of  all 
the  predicates  which  imply  agreeable  and  disagree- 
able feelings,  whether  they  do  not  really  objectify 
pleasure  and  pain  in  their  connection  with  presentative 
elements.  We  certainly  cannot  have  a  pure  Feeling, 
i.e.  pleasure  or  pain,  without  qualities — so  much 
seems  clear.  Feeling  in  this  sense  is  nothing  which 
constitutes  a  separate  object  by  itself. 

The  next  question  which  arises  is  that  of  the 
conditions  of  pleasure  and  pain. 

It  is  natural  for  the  theory  of  Evolution  to 
take  the  view  that  pleasure  goes  with  benefit  to  the 
organism,  and  pain  with  injury,  for  otherwise  how 
could  creatures  have  lived  ?  The  difficulty  arises 
when  we  consider  the  obvious  exceptions  to  this  rule  ; 
Lotze,  for  instance,  takes  the  case  of  a  sweet  poison, 
and  points  out  \.\\dit  feeling  only  reports  the  immediate 
and  local  effect,  and  neglects  consequences. 

We  need,  then,  to  ask  in  what  form  benefit 
accompanies   pleasure.      Ward  distinguishes  between 


64  PSYCHOLOGY  OF  THE  MORAL  SELF  lect. 

(i.)  the  Intensity  and  (ii.)  the  Quality  of  sensations  ; 
and  holds  the  view  that  (i.)  Sensation  as  such  is 
pleasant,  while  its  intensity  can  be  adequately  met  by 
attention,  (ii.)  that  pleasant  quality  accompanies  an 
expanding  field  of  consciousness,  and  painful  quality 
its  contraction. 

With  regard  to  (ii.)  we  may  raise  the  question  of 
the  relativity  of  pain  and  pleasure.  Does  pleasure 
essentially  require  the  sense  of  conquering  something 
that  opposes  it,  so  that  it  consists  in  the  sense  of 
victory  ?  If  so,  then  contraction  should  certainly  be 
painful,  but  it  is  not  clear  that  it  always  is  so,  as,  for 
instance,  in  going  to  sleep.  Bradley  suggests  that  it 
is  not  contraction  as  such,  but  discord,  which  is  pain- 
ful ;  we  do  not  feel  that  we  lose  unless  there  are  some 
elements  left  to  remind  us  of  what  we  lose. 

We  may  perhaps  reduce  the  whole  account  to  (i.), 
and  say  that  Presentation  is  in  itself  pleasant  when 
there  is  no  discord.  Then  we  shall  regard  pleasure 
as  not  essentially  relative,  i.e.  as  not  essentially 
consisting  in  the  removal  of  pain.  Plato  seems  to 
have  been  right  in  admitting  that  there  are  relative 
pleasures,  while  asserting  that  there  are  also  pure 
pleasures  (such  as  the  pleasures  of  smell,  or  aesthetic 
and  intellectual  pleasures).  The  question  may  also 
take  a  form  in  which  it  is  the  root  of  modern  pessi- 
mism :  Is  pain  the  positive  feeling,  and  pleasure  only 
negative,  i.e.  a  release  from  pain  ?  Schopenhauer  took 
the  view  that  this  was  so.  The  theory  finds  support 
in  certain  examples  in  which  the  same  actual  states 
— say  of  an  illness — may  be  painful  at  one  time  and 
pleasant  at  another — painful  after  health,  pleasant 
after  worse  illness  ;  but  these  cases  may  be  quite 
well  explained  without   making  all   pleasure  purely 


VI  FEELING  65 

relative.  Plato's  instances  mentioned  above  retain 
their  weight  ;  there  are  pleasures  which  have  no 
pain  preceding  them. 

We  may  say,  then,  that  Pleasure  seems  to  accom- 
pany all  presentation  which  is  not  discordant,  while 
pain  accompanies  discord.  This  really  covers  what 
the  old  view  meant  by  connecting  pleasure  with  activity 
(J.e.  not  motion  but  simply  mental  being),  but  differs 
seriously  from  the  view  that  pain  checks  activity. 
We  might  rather  say  that  pleasure  is  a  stable  con- 
dition, a  condition  of  equilibrium,  while  pain  is  an 
unstable  condition  seeking  to  regain  equilibrium.^ 

We  have  said  that  most  sensations,  if  not  all,  have 
their  tone,  i.e.  their  pleasurable  or  painful  accom- 
paniment. The  same  is  true  of  probably  every  idea, 
or  interpretation  of  direct  presentation ;  and  the  most 
marked  type  of  these  ideas  with  their  pleasurable  or 
painful  accompaniments  we  call  emotions.  James 
describes  these  in  his  text-book,  but  they  are  really 
individual  in  their  nature,  and  a  mere  description  is 
not  of  much  value.  Their  distinctive  quality,  that  by 
which  they  differ,  is  all  presentative  ;  the  pure  feeling, 
or  pleasure  and  pain,  by  which  they  are  accom- 
panied, is  not  to  be  got  at  by  analysis,  and  must 
be  taken  as  being  one  throughout  all  of  them. 

The  presentative  elements  in  emotion  may  be 
said  on  the  whole  to  be  of  two  kinds,  ideal  content 
and  bodily  sensation  (or  bodily  resonance).  James's 
view  is  that  there  is,  indeed,  nothing  else  in  the 
emotion  ;  and  there  is,  as  we  have  said,  no  sign  of  a 
separate  emotional  centre.  In  fear,  e.g.,  the  ideal 
content   is   an   evil   menacing  the  self  (in  one  sense 

^  Cf.   Bradley  in  Mind,  Jan.    1SS8,   ])j).   1-36,  and   Leslie  Stephen, 
Science  of  Ethics,  p.  51. 

F 


66  rSYCHOLOGY  OF  THE  MORAL  SELF  lect. 

or  another  of  the  self)  ;  the  bodily  resonance  comes 
from  a  number  of  typical  movements  which  have 
their  own  appropriate  sensations,  and  which  all  com- 
bine in  .qualifying  the  painful  feeling  and  together 
make  up  the  peculiar  recognisable  psychosis,  or 
state  of  mind,  which  we  call  fear.  (The  origin  of 
these  movements  is  historically  interesting,  but  not 
of  much  philosophical  value.)  This  view  leads  to 
three  results  about  ideal  feelings  or  emotions. 

(i.)  In  general  ihcy  can  be  analysed  only  in  respect 
of  their  presentative  elements  (this  recalls  the  point 
of  view  from  which  they  are  regarded  as  "  confused 
ideas  "). 

(ii.)  It  has  a  particular  bearing  upon  Esthetic 
Emotions.  What  we  call  the  expression  of  an 
emotion  is  really  a  modification  of  it,  because  it 
changes  the  external  presentative  elements  contained 
in  it.  This  modification  may  change  the  emotion 
in  very  important  ways,  and  may  even  affect  the 
ideal  content  itself.  For  the  aesthetic  emotions 
especially  this  view  is  fundamental  ;  for  we  may 
fairly  say  of  them  that  they  have  to  become  such 
as  can  be  embodied  in  an  individual  object,  and 
this  can  only  be  by  undergoing  modification  in  their 
expression. 

(iii.)  TJie  Moral  Emotions. — In  the  ideal  pre- 
sentative element  of  an  emotion — what  we  call  its 
occasion  or  content — the  central  point  is  its  relation 
to  the  self,  and  if  we  start  from  psychical  individual- 
ism we  tend  to  confuse  emotions  which  are  really 
quite  opposite.  We  may  illustrate  this  by  the 
moral  emotion  of  sympathy,  for  which  the  view  is 
very  important. 

(a)   Sympathy  may  be  an  emotion  arising  from  the 


VI  FEELING  67 

contagion  of  feeling.  I  see  you  suffering  pain,  and 
I  both  feel  a  sympathetic  pain  and  more  or  less 
reflect  upon  what  such  a  pain  would  be  to  me,  to 
my  sensitive  self  The  content  of  the  emotion  is 
then  my  sensitive  self  related  to  a  pain  like  yours, 
and  this  pain  is  the  object  of  the  emotion  just  as 
the  threatened  evil  is  the  object  of  fear.  This  is 
the  elementary  form  of  sympathy  ;  it  is  to  feel  with 
another  in  the  sense  of  feeling  the  same  as  he  feels, 
i.e.  if  he  is  pained  I  am  pained,  but  not  necessarily 
because  he  is  anything  to  me.  It  is  "  with  him," 
but  not  "  for  him."  No  doubt  this  form  of  the 
emotion  rests  upon  the  fact  of  a  common  nature, 
but  it  does  not  involve  the  recognition  of  it,  and 
for  Ethics  this  is  all-important. 

(/3)  Sympathy,  on  the  other  -hand,  may  be  the 
direct  consequence  of  a  wide  self,  of  a  recognition 
of  unity  between  ourselves  and  others,  or  even 
between  ourselves  and  nature.  More  truly  wc 
should  say  it  is  due  to  the  absence  of  a  discrimina- 
tion between  us  and  others,  for  we  must  here  deny 
the  starting-point  of  individualism  entirely.  Our 
connection  with  others  is,  so  to  speak,  in  the  Self, 
and  not  in  the  Not-self ;  and  from  this  point  of 
view  the  whole  content  of  the  feeling  of  sympath}- 
is  quite  different.  It  does  not  come  round  through 
the  sensitive  self  at  all.  To  a  parent  the  care  of 
the  child's  body  is  as  direct  an  object  as  the 
care  of  his  own.  It  is  not  that  he  is  uneasy  because 
he  feels  the  same  pain  that  the  child  feels,  but 
that  the  idea  of  the  child's  pain  is  at  once  the 
idea  of  an  evil  attacking  himself 

To  take  a  purely  imaginary  instance,  let  us 
suppose    that    there   is   a   newspaper    attack   011   our 


68  PSYCHOLOGY  OF  THE  MORAL  SELF  lect. 

particular  University  Extension  centre.  Putting 
aside  the  direct  personal  irritation  caused  in  each 
of  us  separately  by  the  attack,  how  should  we  feel 
it  sympathetically  ? 

(i.)  We  should  feel  it  in  the  first  place  by  mere 
contagion  ;  that  is,  we  should,  as  sensitive  individuals, 
tend  to  feel  the  same  that  the  other  members  of  the 
centre  are  feeling/  The  external  signs  of  their 
vexation  would  make  us  realise  more  vividly  the 
idea  of  the  attack,  and  would  suggest  vexation  to 
ourselves.  This  feeling  in  each  of  us  would  be  ivith 
the  others,  but  not  necessarily  for  them ;  it  would  be 
a  repetition  of  their  feeling  in  us,  and  not  a  new 
feeling  in  which  they  were  regarded  as  persons  to  be 
considered.  This  form  of  "  sympathy  "  is  purely 
selfish,  and  is  not  the  most  original  or  natural  form. 

(ii.)  We  ougJit  also  to  feel  what  is  quite  different, 
that  the  attack  was  an  injury  to  an  embodied  pur- 
pose which  is  an  element  of  our  own  ideal  selves, 
and  in  respect  of  which  we  are  all  so  far  one.  Then 
the  regret  or  resentment  of  each  one  of  us  would  be 
direct,  and  would  be  directly  for  all,  because  of  the 
evil  threatening  the  ideal  self,  which  includes  the 
other  persons  in  so  far  as  they  are  concerned  in  the 
organisation.  There  need  not  be  any  sympathy  in 
the  sense  of  intensifying  one's  own  personal  vexation 
by  attending  to  the  personal  vexation  of  the  others  ; 
the  pain  would  accompany  a  discord,  not  in  the 
private  sensitive  self,  but  in  the  larger  ideal  self 

When  we  come  to  speak  of  Altruism  and  Egoism 

these  distinctions  are   important.      Take  as  another 

instance  the  sympathy  between  members  of  a  family. 

If  any  one  injures   or  insults  your  wife  or  child,  the 

^  Cf.  Ward,  I.e.,  on  Egoistic  and  Social  feelings. 


VI  FEELING  69 

content  of  your  emotion  is  not  the  idea  of  a  painful 
state  in  your  private  self  like  that  which  has  been 
caused  in  your  wife  or  child,  but  the  idea  of  an  evil 
directly  attacking  one  element  of  your  ideal  and 
wider  self,  with  its  consequent  pain  and  resentment. 
There  is  no  going  round  through  your  own  private 
pain  except  in  so  far  as  it  is  necessary  in  order  to 
understand  what  has  happened  ;  but  that  is  only  a 
question  as  to  how  you  form  the  idea  of  the  injury, 
not  as  to  why  you  resent  it.  We  find  similar 
instances  of  sympathetic  feeling  in  such  organisations 
as  the  Church  or  Trade  Unions,  in  so  far  as  they  form 
an  element  common  to  the  selves  of  the  individuals 
comprised  in  them. 


LECTURE  VII 

VOLITION 

I.  Ideomotor  Action. — There  is  oiie  theory  according 
to  which  all  Volition  is  treated  as  a  modifica- 
tion, or  particular  application,  of  what  is  known 
as  "  ideomotor  action "  (see  James's  chapter  on 
Will).  As  it  is  useful  to  master  a  distinct  view, 
even  if  it  strikes  us  at  first  as  paradoxical,  we  will 
discuss  this  first  ;  other  views  can  then  be  presented 
by  contrast  with  it  or  in  modification  of  it. 

Every  one  agrees  that  in  Volition  there  is  present 
an  idea,  which  first  goes  beyond  fact  and  is  then 
followed  by  fact  in  conformity  with  it.  We  might 
almost  say  that  the  idea  is  at  first  "  conflicting  with 
fact,"  but  that  this  would  not  include  certain  cases 
of  continued  action  or  position.  For  instance,  in 
the  volition  of  the  soldier  who  stands  still  to  be  shot 
at,  the  idea  (that  of  continuing  to  stand)  goes  beyond 
the  present,  but  does  not  conflict  with  it. 

In  many  forms  of  action  there  is  nothing  psychical 
involved  but  this  idea,  which  goes  beyond  fact  ;  in 
hypnotic  suggestion,  e.g.,  where  the  idea  fills  the  mind 
to  the  exclusion  of  everything  else  ;  or  in  action 
consequent  upon  "  fixed  ideas,"  or  in  any  form  of 
conscious  associative  suggestion,  as  when  I  go  to  a 


LECT.  VII  VOLITION 


71 


bookshelf  for  a  book  which  I  want,  see  another  and 
am  prompted  by  the  idea  of  its  contents  to  take  it 
down  and  begin  reading  it,  to  the  entire  exclusion 
of  the  first.  Carpenter  in  his  Mental  PJiysiology^ 
chap,  vi.,  even  includes  in  such  ideomotor  action 
tmrecognised  cases  of  volition,  such  as  take  place  in 
the  use  of  the  divining-rod  ;  but  he  describes  them 
as  "  reflex  actions  of  the  cerebrum,"  and  does  not 
regard  them  as  instances  of  Will  at  all.  Imitative 
movements  may  also  be  regarded,  at  any  rate  in 
many  cases,  as  instances  of  ideomotor  action  ;  and 
these  to  a  great  extent  fall  into  the  category  of 
actions  which  are  ordinarily  called  voluntary.^  In 
the  lower  ideomotor  actions  (such  as  hypnotic  action) 
the  subject  is  unaware  that  the  action  proceeds  from 
the  idea  ;  but  at  a  rather  higher  level — that,  e.g.,  of 
fixed  ideas — he  is  aware  of  it. 

These  are  all  more  or  less  abnormal  cases,  but  it 
is  possible  to  take  Ideomotor  action  as  the  typical 
case  of  Will,  and  to  lay  down  the  principle  that 
every  idea  which  can  suggest  action  tends  to  pass 
into  action  ;  i.e.  that  it  passes  into  action  if  not 
checked  by  some  counteracting  idea  or  by  pain.  In 
Ideomotor  action  of  this  kind  we  are  fully  aware 
that  the  idea  is  fulfilling  itself.  Then,  as  James  says, 
the  W^ill  consists  only  in  attention  to  the  idea  ;  it 
passes  into  action  without  further  interference  on 
our  part.  Indeed,  the  idea,  according  to  this  view, 
simply  is  the  sign  of  a  nascent  action  which  may  be 
checked  or  may  proceed  to  completion.  Or  we  may 
stop  short  of  the  principle  that  consciousness  is  in 
this  way  itself  motor,  and  merely  extend  tlio  principle 
of  Association  and  say  that  it  exists  between  ideas 

^  See  Sully,  lluiuaii  Mind,  vol.  ii.  pp.  214,  244,  ami  Ward,  /.(•.  p.  43. 


72  PSYCHOLOGY  OF  THE  MORAL  SELF  lect. 

and  the  physical  states  which  accompany  them  ; 
then  it  will  be  possible  for  an  idea  to  call  up  an 
appropriate  action  as  the  means  to  realise  itself,  just 
as  an  idea  may  call  up  another  idea. 

As  examples  of  how  Volition  is  treated  on  this 
view,  we  may  take  : — 

(i.)  Internal  Volition. — This  is  the  simplest  case, 
as  it  dispenses  with  the  question  of  muscular  con- 
tractions. Take  as  a  special  instance  that  of  a 
lecturer  haunted  by  the  idea  of  treating  the  subject 
of  Volition  in  a  lecture — the  abstract  idea  of  preparing 
a  certain  subject  for  an  occasion.  All  sorts  of  dis- 
tractions tend  to  come  up  in  his  mind,  business 
matters,  amusements,  etc.  ;  but  the  idea  of  a  certain 
definite  treatment  of  Volition  persists  and  holds 
its  own  against  distractions,  and  develops  into 
subdivisions  and  reflections,  until  at  last  it  has 
become  a  mental  fact  conforming  to  the  abstract 
idea  with  which  he  started.  In  other  words,  the 
idea  has  produced  a  mental  reality  corresponding  to 
its  content :  expressed  formally,  a  has  passed  into 
A.  Of  course  such  a  mental  operation  as  this  is 
much  helped  in  practice  by  making  notes,  etc.,  and 
here  we  pass  into  muscular  contraction,  but  this  is 
not  essential  to  the  volition.  Think  for  instance  of 
what  takes  place  when  you  do  a  bit  of  mental 
arithmetic.  You  start,  say,  with  an  abstract  idea 
of  the  cost  of  building  a  house  ;  certain  data  are 
given  to  work  from,  these  suggest  their  combinations 
in  your  mind,  and  at  last  the  result,  a  definite  figure, 
becomes  a  mental  fact ;  you  started  from  a  and  attain 
A.  In  short,  the  theory  is  summed  up  in  the  words: 
it  is  will  when  an  idea  produces  facts  conformable  to  it,^ 

^  Bradley,  I.e. 


VII  VOLITION  73 

and   in   this  way   modern    Psychology   is    taking    us 
right  back  to  Socrates. 

(ii.)  In  External  Volition  the  elements,  for  normal 
cases,  are  just  the  same.  There  is  first  the  anticipa- 
tion of  a  movement  or  external  effect^  or  it  may  be  of 
both — e.g.  the  thought  of  starting  to  come  down  to 
the  lecture-hall  {ti) ;  and  secondly,  the  perception  of 
the  motion  as  actually  taking  place  (A).  The  first 
element  is  simply  a  reproduced  idea  due  to  previous 
experience  of  the  second,  and  there  seems  no  reason 
to  suppose  that  motor  impulses,  as  such,  are  felt  at  all. 
What  happens  is  that  some  stimulus  or  perception — 
e.g.  of  the  time — suggests  the  idea  of  motion,  and 
the  idea  of  motion  then  passes  into  its  reality. 

The  question  naturally  arises  as  to  how  on  this 
view  we  are  to  distinguish  Volition  from  Expectation. 
In  Expectation  we  have  the  same  two  elements,  the 
anticipation  followed  by  the  result,  but  they  are  not 
connected  in  the  same  way.  That  is  to  say,  in 
Expectation  there  is  some  connection,  other  than  the 
anticipatory  idea,  which  we  know  to  be  the  operative 
link  bringing  about  the  result.  There  is  present  to 
the  mind  a  and  A,  but  there  is  also  the  knowledge 
that  if  the  cause  of  A  is  to  be  represented  another 
element  must  be  taken  into  account ;  the  process  is 
b  and  A.  When  we  expect  the  clock  to  strike,  the 
sound,  as  it  occurs,  is  immediately  referred  to  an 
external  cause  {b).  But  when  we  do  think  our  idea 
is  connected  with  the  result,  then  Will  is  present, 
even  though  the  connection  may  really  be  altogether 
different.  Noma  in  Scott's  Pirate  wills  that  iicr 
song  shall  stop  the  storm,  and  the  storm  stops  ;  just 
as  the  spiritualist  wills  the  table  to  cross  the  room 
to   him,   and    the    table    comes.       If    the}-    had    only 


( 


UlS)i\ 


74  PSYCHOLOGY  OF  THE  MORAL  SELF  lect. 

expected  the  iCsult,  they  would  have  attributed  it  to 
some  external  cause  (^). 

Is  there  something  more  than  the  persistent  idea 
itself  required  to  constitute  volition  ?  There  is  no 
doubt  that  we  are  accustomed  to  think  of  an  act  of 
will  as  involving  something  like  a  fiat^  or  effort ;  but 
we  can  more  easily  consider  the  nature  of  this  in 
connection  with  the  idea  of  activity,  and  after  dealing 
with  attention. 

The  question  has  been  raised  as  to  the  origin  of 
Will — whether,  e.g.,  it  has  been  developed  from  reflex 
action.  It  would  perhaps  be  better  to  say  that  all 
action  is  a  modified  reflex,  in  the  sense  that  it  is 
sensation  plus  motion  ;  but  it  does  not  seem  likely 
that  fixed  reflexes  pass  into  volition,  while  instances 
are  common  of  actions  originally  "voluntary  "becoming 
through  habit  reflex,  or  "  secondarily  automatic."  ^ 

2.  According  to  the  view  we  have  been  consider- 
ing Will  depends  upon  Attention  to  an  idea  ;  and 
that  brings  us  to  the  question,  what  is  Attention  9"^ 

At  first  sight  the  matter  seems  so  simple  as  to 
call  for  no  explanation  ;  we  all  know  what  we  mean 
by  attending  to  anything.  But  the  governing  diffi- 
culty here,  as  in  the  question  of  Free-will  and  all 
kindred  questions  of  activity,  is  to  explain  the 
relevancy  of  the  attention.  "  /  am  actively  attend- 
ing," you  say  ;  yes,  but  in  attending  you  are  selecting, 
and  why,  or  how,  do  you  select  one  thing  rather  than 
another  to  which  to  attend  ?  To  refer  to  activity, 
choice,  or  even  muscular  preparation,  does   not   help 

^  Cf.  Ward,  p.  43,  and  Sully,  Hit /nan  Mind,  vol.  ii.  pp.  191,  192. 
^  Cf.   James,   pp.    221,    222;   Ward,   I.e.    p.    41,   col.    2;  Bradley, 
"Activity  of  Attention,"  Mind,  1886,  p.  341. 


VII  VOLITION  75 

us  at  this  point  ;  it  is  only  giving  another  name  to 
the  same  fact.  It  is  tension  of  the  ear,  you  say, 
which  enables  me  to  attend  to,  or  hear,  the  note  ; 
but  tension  to  wJiicJi  note  ?  Unless  you  can  show 
how  and  why  one  element  in  particular  attracts  or 
fixes  your  will  or  attention  at  a  particular  moment, 
it  seems  to  become  a  matter  of  chance  ;  and  if  chance, 
there  is  no  selection  or  volition.  James  introduces 
the  conception  of  Free-will  to  solve  the  difficulty 
(p.  237).  "No  object  can  catcJi  our  attention"  he 
says,  "  except  by  the  neural  machinery.  But  the 
amount  of  the  attention  which  an  object  receives  after 
it  has  caught  our  mental  eye  is  another  question. 
It  often  takes  effort  to  keep  the  mind  upon  it.  We 
feel  that  we  can  make  more  or  less  of  the  effort  as 
we  choose.  If  this  feeling  be  not  deceptive,  if  our 
effort  be  a  spiritual  force,  and  an  indeterminate  one, 
then,  of  course,  it  contributes  co-equally  with  the 
cerebral  conditions  to  the  result." 

But  to  the  psychologist  this  explanation  is  not 
satisfactory  (as  indeed  James  seems  to  allow)  ;  it  is 
at  best  a  mere  miraculous  loading  of  the  scales,  and 
if  so  why  should  it  not  load  them  in  the  wrong 
direction  ?  It  would  be  as  if  we  cherished  a  capri- 
cious demon  somewhere  in  our  nervous  system,  who 
would  now  and  again  put  his  hand  on  the  balance  of 
motives  without  any  special  relevance  or  reason.  It 
is  this  same  want  of  relevance  which  was  the  radical 
flaw  in  the  Faculty  doctrine.  We  can  see  this  by 
contrasting  it  with  our  idea  of  the  self  as  constituted 
by  appercipient  masses,  which  enables  us  to  say 
wJiat  gives  its  force  to  each  element  attended  to, 
while  the  idea  of  Faculties  breaks  up  the  mental 
system  into  disconnected  parts. 


76  PSYCHOLOGY  OF  THE  MORAL  SELF  lect. 

Attention,  then,  if  it  is  to  be  relevant  to  the  con- 
tents of  consciousness,  must  be  an  effect  of  the 
Interest,  or  given  Intensity,  attaching  to  those  con- 
trasts. Of  these  two  aspects  we  must  note  that  as 
the  appercipient  masses  develop.  Interest  tends  to  gain 
in  effectiveness — i.e.  to  attract  more  attention — while 
Intensity  tends  to  lose.  We  attend  to  sensations  less 
because  they  are  loud  or  vivid,  and  more  because 
they  are  connected  with  many  thoughts  and  ex- 
periences, so  that  the  small  and  scarcely  perceptible 
scratches  of  a  familiar  handwriting  may  for  a  time 
entirely  exclude  all  the  bustle  of  daily  life  around  us. 
It  is  true  that  a  loud  report  like  that  of  firearms 
usually  engages  the  attention,  but  that  may  be  due 
as  much  to  the  idea  of  danger  as  to  the  intensity  of 
the  noise;  moreover,  as  James  points  out,  all  voluntary 
attention  is  derivative,  in  the  sense  that  in  what  we 
feel  to  be  voluntary  attention  a  perception  is  not 
forced  upon  us  from  without,  but  a  dominant  idea 
within  forces  upon  us  some  perception  connected 
with  it.  Much  of  our  passive  attention  also  has  a 
transferred  or  acquired  interest ;  the  postman's  knock 
catches  the  ear  quicker  than  another  because  of  the 
letter  he  brings  ;  as  in  volition  we  are  aware  of  the 
operative  idea  first  going  beyond  the  present  and 
then  realized,  a  and  then  A.  Put  into  general  terms, 
Attention  =  the  working  of  Interest  in  selecting  pre- 
sentations, and  Interest  =  the  relation  of  presentations 
to  the  system  of  appercipient  masses,  with  their 
concomitant  feelings. 

3.  We  may  now  return  to  the  question  of  the  so- 
called  Fiat  of  Will,  or  the  consciousness  of  activity 
in  volition.      The  core  of  it  would  seem,  at  first  sight. 


VII  VOLITION 


77 


to  be  the  feeling  of  the  motor  impulse ;  but  it  is  very 
doubtful   whether   this,  as    a   special    feeling,   exists. 
That  is  to  say,  the  difference  in   feeling  of  lifting  a 
light  weight  and  lifting  a  heavy  weight  seems  upon 
analysis  to  be  merely  a  difference   in  the  sensations 
coming   i?i   from   the   muscles,  and  not  to  imply  any 
feeling  emanating  from  the  centre.      We  feel  ourselves 
active,    as    we    explained    above,    when    the   idea   a 
persists,  and  a  change  in   the  not-Self  bringing  with 
it  A  is  referred  to  its  persistence.      Where  this  refer- 
ence  is   not  made,  as  in  the  use  of  the  divining-rod, 
etc.,  we  protest  that  we  are  not  active.      In  cases  of 
deliberative  action  at  a  high  level  of  consciousness, 
the  self  or  personality  participates  ;  ^   i£.  one  of  the 
ideas  which  are  striving  for  predominance  reinforces 
itself  by  the  whole  mass  of  our  positive  personality — 
purposes,  associations,  and   feelings.      As   a  rule  the 
idea     thus    reinforced    wins,    and    the    self   prevails 
against  that  which   ipso  facto   becomes   the   not-self 
This  is  really  the    answer  to   Sully's  objection   that 
"  Ideomotor  action — that  is,  the  tendency  to   carry 
out  an  action  merely  because  this  is  vividly  suggested 
— is    obviously    not    only    useless    but    likely  to   be 
positively  injurious."  -      Of  course,   if  the  action    is 
vividly  suggested   only  because   all    other   considera- 
tions, e.g.  of  consequences,  are  excluded,  the  tendency 
is  likely  to  be  injurious  ;  but   if  the  *'  me  "   is   taken 
into  account — if,  that  is, the  suggestion  is  vivid  because 
reinforced  by  the  whole  moral  self — that  is  the  best 
security  we  can  have  of  its  sanity. 

This    is,    in    its    general    outlines,    the    theory    of 
Volition    as    explained    by    analogy    to    Ideomotor 

1  Cf.  Miinsterljcrg,  Die  Willetishandlun!^^  pp.  147,  148. 
2  Sully,  Iluiiian  Mind,  vol.  ii.  p.  244. 


78  rSYCHOLOGY  OF  THE  MORAL  SELF  lect. 

action  such  as  we  have  in  Fixed  Ideas,  Hypnotic 
Suggestion,  or  Imitation.  It  is  a  theory  which  is 
easily  understood,  and  has  much  experience  in  its 
favour  ;  and  it  is  completely  opposed  to  the  theory 
which  represents  the  will  as  the  last  appetite  before 
action.  On  the  other  hand  we  must  note  that 
some  psychologists  prefer  to  draw  a  sharp  distinction 
between  ideomotor  action  and  volition,  on  the  ground 
that  the  former  does  not  necessarily  involve  a  choice 
between  conflicting  alternatives.^ 

4.  The  further  question  which  arises  is  twofold  : 
Is  Desire  necessary  to  Will  ?  and  Does  Pleasure 
really  constitute  the  object  of  Desire  ? 

(i.)  Is  Desire  necessary  to  Will? — Desire  seems 
upon  analysis  to  involve  three  elements.  If  we 
delay  the  satisfaction  of  a  normal  appetite,  say  of 
hunger,  then  we  get  a  fair  instance  of  desire.  Pure 
appetite  may  have  no  distinct  object  before  it,  in 
which  case  it  is  hardly  desire  ;  instinct  goes  straight 
to  the  movement  without  the  intervention  of  ideas. 
But  where  there  is  delay  to  satisfy  hunger  we  get 
the  idea  of  eating,  which  is  felt  as  pleasant,  over 
against  a  iral  absence  of  food,  which  is  painful,  the 
whole  complex  state  being  pleasant  or  painful  ac- 
cording to  circumstances.  The  prospect  of  further 
delay  may  cause  the  pain  to  predominate,  while  the 
announcement  of  dinner  may  change  the  whole  state 
to  one  of  pleasure. 

Thus  there  is  no  desire  without  the  element  of 
"  uneasiness,"  due  to  the  absence  of  the  thing  desired. 
Is  this  element  discoverable  in  all  cases  of  Will  ? 
The  chief  use  of  such  questions  is  to  make  us  realise 

^  Cf.  Stout,  Psychology,  vol,  i.  p.  131. 


VII  VOLITION  79 

their  meaning  ;  the  answer  depends  very  much  upon 
what  we  include  in  the  term  Will.  There  are  certain 
kinds  of  Ideomotor  action  in  which  we  believe  we 
are  not  active;  i.e.  hypnotic  suggestions  and  imitative 
movements  and  fixed  ideas  must  in  some  cases  be 
excluded  from  Will.  Fixed  ideas,  for  instance,  even 
if  conscious,  may  lead  to  actions  which  our  self 
would  repudiate  if  fully  aware  of  them  ;  our  person- 
ality seems  not  fully  awake,  and  we  do  not  have  a 
fair  chance  of  controlling  them.  Many,  again,  would 
say  that  they  cannot  understand  Voluntary  action 
apart  from  the  effect  of  Pleasure  at  least,  if  not  of 
Pleasure  and  Pain.  It  is  clear,  then,  that  the  answer 
to  the  question  whether  Will  involves  Desire  must 
depend  upon  what  kinds  of  action  we  regard  as 
voluntary.  But  before  going  on  to  consider  the 
object  of  Desire  we  may  point  out  that  in  some 
cases  where  volition  is  most  deliberate,  the  element: 
of  desire  seems  most  conspicuously  absent.  When, 
for  instance,  we  approach  a  very  important  decision, 
such  as  changing  our  residence  or  profession,  or 
taking  a  particular  line  in  any  kind  of  policy,  for 
which  we  have  weeks  or  months  in  which  to  prepare, 
in  such  cases  as  these  we  can  hardly  be  said  to 
verify  Desire.  Our  decision  is  more  like  a  necessity 
gradually  revealing  itself.  Even  if  we  have  intervals 
of  pain  or  uneasiness  with  reference  to  the  prospect, 
it  is  very  doubtful  whether  they  determine  the 
decision  ;  it  is  more  like  a  process  by  which  a 
certain  prospective  course  exhibits  itself  as  the  only 
solution  of  a  certain  problem,  and  so  becomes  more 
and  more  dominant  in  the  mind.  Everything  brings 
us  back  to  that  particular  course,  or,  as  wc  say, 
everything    points    that    way.        The     fact     is     that 


8o  PSYCHOLOGY  OF  THE  MORAL  SELF  lect. 

volition  of  this  type  tends  to  approximate  to  the 
mere  choice  of  means,  and  this,  it  may  be  said,  is 
not  voHtion  at  all.  But  when  the  so-called  means 
actually  qualify  the  end  {e.g.  the  end  of  organising 
your  life  in  accordance  with  certain  standards),  then 
it  really  is  volition.  Suppose  that  you  have  to 
decide  between  going  into  Parliament  and  going 
into  the  Church  ;  both  may  be  pleasant  to  you,  and 
both  afford  opportunities  of  usefulness,  and  you  will 
probably  decide  according  to  which  seems  most 
likely  to  be  useful,  taking  into  consideration  your 
own  particular  powers.  The  actual  feeling  accom- 
panying the  decision,  or  act  of  will,  might  be  more 
like  that  of  being  absorbed  in  an  idea  than  like 
that  of  giving  effect  to  desire  ;  it  would  be  a  sort 
of  necessity,  following  from  the  circumstances,  and 
taking  shape  in  your  decision.  Or,  to  take  another 
instance,  suppose  I  am  asked  why  I  support  or 
oppose  the  Poor  Law  Clauses  of  the  Parish  Councils 
Bill.  I  may  answer  that  I  desire  them,  or  am 
averse  to  them  ;  but  the  fundamental  answer  would 
seem  to  be  :  "  Because  they  agree  with.  Or  are  con- 
trary to,  all  my  ideas  on  the  subject."  In  the 
first  case  there  is  simply  desire  or  aversion  ;  in  the 
second  there  is  the  conception  of  a  system  of  ideas 
working  themselves  out  into  a  consistent  whole.^ 

(ii.)  Is  Pleasure  the  necessary  object  of  Desire  ? — 
This  brings  us  to  the  Psychology  of  Hedonism,  and 
here  we  must  note  that  the  doctrine  of  Hedonism 
does  not  necessarily  depend  upon  the  old  Psychology, 
which  maintained  that  pleasure  is  the  only  thing 
desired.  It  may  be  simply  an  opinion,  serving  as 
the  basis  of  an   ethical   system,  about  the  value  of 

^  Cf.  Mackenzie,  p.  74. 


VII  VOLITION  8i 

Pleasure ;  the  opinion  that  it  is  desirable^  not  the 
demonstration  that  Pleasure  is  the  exclusive  object 
of  desire.  The  latter  view  seems  to  depend  upon  a 
certain  confusion  between  a  present  feeling  of  pleasure 
and  the  thought  of  future  pleasure/  Both  may 
determine  action,  but  are  not  therefore  the  sole 
objects  of  Desire.  To  take  a  simple  instance,  the 
pleasure  of  satisfaction  presupposes  the  desire  of 
some  definite  object  ;  it  cannot  be  achieved  unless 
this  object  has  first  been  desired.  In  thirst  it  is 
not  Pleasure  which  is  desired,  but  water,  otherwise 
drinking  could  give  no  pleasure.  When  Pleasure 
does  become  the  object  of  desire  we  have  the  volup- 
tuary ;  and  he  knows  that  he  can  only  attain  his 
object  indirectly,  by  stimulating  desires  for  definite 
things.  Pleasure,  we  must  remember,  is  an  abstrac- 
tion, and  only  to  be  found  in  the  concrete  complexity 
of  mental  life.  Even  ^we  go  so  far  as  to  say  that 
it  is  an  aspect  or  element  in  everything  we  aim  at, 
still  that  does  not  make  it  the  07dy  thing  we  aim  at. 

^  Cf.  Ward,  Eiicy.  BriL,  Ninth  ed.,  vol.  xx.  pp.  74,  75. 


LECTURE    VIII 

VOLITION  {continued) 

I.  Before  passing  from  the  theory  of  VoHtion  it  will 
be  well  to  say  something  more  about  the  connection 
of  will  with  reflex  action.  The  subject  is  one  of 
those  which  lie  on  the  border  line  of  Psychology  and 
Physiology,  and  besides  being  extremely  interesting 
in  itself  it  contributes  a  certain  clearness  to  the 
whole  modern  view  of  the  will. 

The  origin  of  the  will  out  of  simpler  forms  of 
action  is  discussed  by  James  (pp.  92-101),  by  Ward 
{I.e.  pp.  42,  43),  and  by  Sully,  {Psychology,  p.  595  ; 
Human  Mind,  vol.  ii.  pp.  182,  192).  The  physio- 
logist's view  of  the  question  may  be  found  in  the 
Ency.  Brit.,  article  on  "  Physiology,"  Ninth  ed.,  vol. 
xix.  (pp.  28,  29)  ;  and  Herbert  Spencer,  who  has 
contributed  much  to  the  importance  of  the  subject, 
deals  with  it  in  the  chapters  on  reflex  action  and 
the  will  in  vol.  i.  of  his  Psychology. 

The  general  idea  of  reflex  movement,  or  reflex 
action,  seems  to  be  that  it  is  any  movement  started 
by  what  is  called  the  incoming  stimulus  ;  a  stimulus, 
that  is,  entering  by  way  of  a  nerve  such  as  can  carry 
what  will  be  a  sensation  (an  "  afferent "  nerve)  up  to 
the  central   nervous  organs.      In   a   more  special   or 


LECT.  VIII  VOLITION  83 

Strict  sense  it  also  means  some  rather  definite  move- 
ment corresponding  mechanically  to  some  rather 
definite  stimulus.  For  instances  we  may  begin  with 
the  simplest  kind,  i.e.  unconscious  actions.  The 
physiologists  seem  to  be  uncertain  whether  to  regard 
reflex  movements  as  limited  to  those  which  have 
psychological  accompaniments — i.e.  conscious  move- 
ments, or  as  including  unconscious  movements  ;  and 
Herbert  Spencer,  though  he  begins  by  including  the 
psychological  accompaniment,  often  assumes  that 
the  reflex  movement  is  unconscious.  But  we  may 
take  as  an  instance  of  unconscious  reflex  movement 
such  a  thing  as  the  contraction  of  the  pupil  of  the 
eye  when  a  light  falls  upon  it  ;  we  are  conscious 
of  the  light,  but  not  of  the  contraction  unless  it  is 
specially  pointed  out.  The  focussing  of  the  lens  of 
the  eye  in  looking  at  near  or  distant  objects,  and 
the  beating  of  the  heart,  with  all  the  unconscious 
functions  carried  on  by  the  nervous  system,  are  also 
given  as  instances — although  the  beating  of  the  heart 
in  its  normal  rhythm  seems  hardly  to  be  regulated 
(it  is,  of  course,  disturbed)  by  an  incoming  stimulus 
from  an  afferent  nerve.  The  action  of  a  carnivorous 
plant  in  grasping  its  prey  would  seem  to  be  a  good 
instance,  but  is  excluded  by  physiologists  on  the 
ground  that  reflex  movement  as  they  understand  it 
belongs  only  to  organisms  having  a  definite  machinery 
of  action — a  nervous  system  on  the  one  hand,  and  a 
muscular  system  on  the  other. 

Next  in  the  scale  we  have  what  are  called  sensori- 
motor reflex  movements  ;  movements,  that  is,  in 
which  there  is  an  impression  of  sense,  and  then 
motion  stimulated  by  that  impression  or  sensation. 
These  are  described  as  conscious,  but  involuntary  or 


84  PSYCHOLOGY  OF  THE  MORAL  SELF  lect. 

semi-voluntary.  Such  are  the  closing  of  the  eye 
when  an  object  injurious  to  it  approaches,  the 
involuntary  withdrawal  of  the  hand  from  a  hot  or 
painful  object,  and  the  flow  of  tears  when  something 
gets  into  the  eye. 

With  movements  of  this  level  we  must  compare 
certain  very  important  movements  which  are  not 
reflex  in  the  stricter  sense  ;  these  are  random  move- 
ments, such  as  we  see  in  children,  and  expressive 
movements.  Random  movements  may  perhaps  be 
reflex  in  the  wider  sense,  but  they  are  not  definite 
movements  co-ordinated  to  any  purpose,  or  belonging 
to  a  definite  stimulus  ;  they  are  simply  the  sort  of 
movement  made  by  an  infant  when,  e.g.,  a  bright 
light  falls  upon  its  eye.  Expressive  movements, 
such  as  the  facial  movements  on  tasting  something 
sour,  are  of  the  same  general  kind. 

In  all  these  sensori-motor  reflex  actions  we  have 
the  stimulus  which  is  felt  or  perceived,  but  we  have 
no  idea  of  the  movement  to  be  executed  before  it 
has  taken  place ;  the  idea  comes  only  after  the 
movement.  On  about  the  same  actual  level  (not  the 
same  level  of  origin)  we  have  again  what  are  called 
the  secondary  reflex  movements,  or  secondary  auto- 
matic movements.  The  classical  instance  of  these  is 
that  of  the  movements  of  the  fingers  of  the  skilled 
performer  on  the  piano,  movements  which  were  once 
willed  slowly  and  deliberately,  but  which  have  now 
become  habitual  or  automatic.  Our  whole  life  is 
full  of  movements  of  this  kind,  all  the  co-ordinated 
movements  made  unconsciously  by  a  grown-up 
person,  which  a  child  takes  so  long  to  learn  to 
make.  In  these,  as  in  the  sensori-motor  actions, 
there  is   no  idea  of  the   movement  to   be   executed 


VIII  VOLITION  85 

before  it  is  carried  out,  although  there  is  a  stimulus 
which  is  felt  or  perceived. 

Where,  in  all  this,  arc  we  to  look  for  the  genesis 
of  the  will  ?  in  other  words,  for  the  beginning  either 
of  ideomotor  action,  or  of  action  impelled  by  desire  ? 
It  seems  natural  to  look  for  it  in  the  simplest  form 
of  reflex  action,  the  unconscious  movement  which 
follows  directly  upon  the  unconscious  stimulus,  and 
this  is  the  view  apparently  taken  by  Herbert  Spencer. 
Ward,  on  the  other  hand,  combats  it,  and  there 
certainly  are  great  difficulties  in  it,  since  our  natural 
experience  is  all  in  the  direction  of  voluntary  action 
becoming  reflex,  not  of  reflex  action  becoming 
voluntary.  Munsterberg,  e.g.,  maintains  very  strongly 
that  we  have  no  experience  at  all  of  a  simple  reflex 
action  becoming  volitional,  whereas  we  have  abun- 
dant evidence  of  the  reverse. 

The  two  extreme  views  are,  on  the  one  hand  that 
all  movement  is  reflex  (see  James,  p.  loi),  and  on 
the  other  hand  that  all  movements,  even  involuntary 
reflex  actions,  have  been  originally  volitional.  As 
between  the  two  we  may  perhaps  say  that  though 
the  will  is  akin  to  reflex  action  in  its  more  general 
meaning  of  an  incoming  stimulus  which  discharges 
itself  in  a  movement,  yet  there  are  certain  fixed 
reflex  movements  which  do  not  tend  to  pass  into 
volition.  Instead,  therefore,  of  looking  for  the  origin 
of  the  will  in  the  simplest  of  all  reflex  movements, 
such  as  the  beating  of  the  heart,  we  must  (as  Ward 
says)  look  for  it  in  the  random  or  expressive  move- 
ments. These  we  may  perhaps  call  consequential, 
meaning  that  they  are  the  mere  result  of  some 
stimulus,  and  have  not  been  selected  with  a  view  to 
any  purposive  effect.      But   they  are  modifiable,  and 


S6  PSYCHOLOGY  OF  THE  MORAL  SELF  lect. 

in  them  we  soon  get  what  we  call  subjective  selection 
by  help  of  ideas  and  feelings.  That  is,  we  get  to 
know  by  experience  what  effect  one  of  these  move- 
ments will  produce  ;  the  stimulus  brings  up  the  idea, 
the  idea  brings  up  the  action,  and  it  comes  under  the 
head  of  what  we  have  described  as  voluntary  action. 
Professor  Bain  has  taken  the  view  that  the  will 
originates  from  what  he  calls  spontaneous  action  or 
discharges.  Whether  or  not  there  are  such  spontane- 
ous discharges  seems  matter  of  controversy  ;  but  the 
tendency  is  to  limit  the  number  of  such  hypotheses, 
and  we  seem  to  meet  all  requirements  by  construing 
reflex  action  in  the  wider  sense  suggested  ;  that  is,  as 
including  non-purposive  action  which  has  not  become 
mechanical,  and  is  capable  of  modification — random 
and  expressive  action. 

2.  T/ie  higher  and  lower  limits  of  morality. — In 
order  to  have  morality  we  must  have  the  finite  self; 
it  is  the  finite  self  which  distinguishes  morality.  In 
other  words,  the  self  must  have  begun  to  be  aware 
of  itself,  and  it  must  not  yet  have  lost  itself  in 
knowing  a  higher  self.  When  the  higher  limit  is 
transcended,  then  morality  is  absorbed  in  a  greater 
self. 

(i.)  About  the  lower  limit  Miinsterberg  has  written 
an  interesting  work,^  in  which  he  takes  an  ultra- 
Kantian  view.  External  conduct,  he  says,  is  no  safe 
test  of  the  existence  of  morality,  and  by  judging 
from  external  conduct  we  have  presupposed  morality 
in  the  strict  sense  where  it  has  not  really  existed. 
Individuals  may,  for  instance,  act  so  as  to  conduce  to 
the  good  of  the  community,  but  that  does  not  prove 

^   Ursprung  d.  Sittlichheit. 


VIII  VOLITION  87 

morality  ;  you  must  know  from  what  motive  they 
act,  and  for  the  motive  to  be  really  moral  he 
demands  that  a  rule  should  be  obeyed  for  its  own 
sake,  and  in  face  of  inclination.  From  this  it  \ 
follows  that  the  habit  of  moral  action  can  only  arise 
by  the  association  of  rewards  and  punishments  used 
as  training,  by  social  discipline.  Without  this  there 
is  no  morality  at  all,  for  mere  affection,  or  affectionate 
regard  for  the  good  of  the  community,  does  not,  on 
his  view,  suffice  to  constitute  morality. 

Thus  we  have  two  questions  arising  : — 

(a)  Is  Society  necessary  to  the  genesis  of  a  moral 
self?  (/8)  By  what  means  does  it,  whether  necessary 
or  not,  aid  this  genesis  ? 

(<x)  We  have  already,  in  the  lecture  on  Self- 
consciousness,  spoken  of  the  first  question  :  Is 
Society  necessary  ?  It  seems  to  be  conceivably 
possible  that  the  mere  contrast  of  success  and 
failure  within  the  individual  might  suffice  to  initiate 
something  like  a  moral  judgment — the  judgment  of 
approval,  without  a  reflection  of  the  self  in  society  ; 
and  when  we  have  got  that,  it  can  hardly  be  denied 
that  we  have  got  something  like  a  germ  of  the 
moral  consciousness. 

(/3)  But  then  we  have  to  ask  in  what  way  society 
aids  this  genesis  of  the  moral  self.  No  doubt  the 
reflection  of  the  self  in  the  actions  of  other  similar 
bodies  does  much  to  promote  the  reflection  of  it  in 
the  individual  mind  ;  and,  historically  speaking,  no 
doubt  the  human  individual  does  not  originate  in 
isolation,  but  reflects  some  sort  of  community,  so 
that  from  the  first  the  self  goes  beyond  the  bodily 
unit.  And  without  allowing  that  the  consciousness 
of  a  clash  between  personal  inclination  and  the  rule 


S8  rSVCIIOLOGV  OF  THE  MORAL  SELF  lect. 

is  essential  in  all  cases  to  moral  action,  or  that 
society  acts  chiefly  on  the  self  by  pains  and  pleasures, 
rewards  and  punishments,  there  is  no  doubt  that  the 
experience  of  approval  and  disapproval  expressed 
by  other  selves  will  be  a  very  effective  way  of 
drawing  attention  to  j-^-^- approval  or  disapproval. 
It  is  this  feeling  of  self-assertion,  in  which  the  self 
is  approved  of,  which  seems  to  constitute  the  essential 
element  in  the  moral  consciousness  ;  and  this  would 
begin  practically  with  a  society  in  which  action  was 
directed  to  the  common  welfare,  for  not  only  does 
such  action  constitute  a  great  part  of  the  self- 
assertion  which  meets  with  self-approbation,  but  that 
approbation  is  also  intensified  by  its  reflection  in 
other  minds. 

^  In  recognising  the  beginnings  of  moral  conscious- 
ness wherever  there  is  definite  approval  of  the  self 
on  the  ground  of  a  relation  to  a  common  good  (such 
as  might  arise  from  family  or  tribal  affections),  we 
make  the  lower  limit  of  morality  rather  less  definite 
than  that  drawn  by  Munsterberg.  But  his  warning 
is  a  useful  one,  inasmuch  as  we  do  find  in  many 
accounts  of  animals  what  looks  like  self-sacrificing 
action  for  the  benefit  of  others  ;  and  unless  we  are 
prepared  to  admit  these  within  the  sphere  of  morality, 
we  must  insist  on  the  presence  of  some  idea  of 
purpose  or  object  by  which  the  momentary  self  is 
tested  and  approved  of,  or  the  reverse. 

(ii.)  The  question  of  the  higher  limit  of  morality 
hardly  belongs  to  psychology,  except  in  so  far  as 
morality  hinges  upon  the  consciousness  of  the 
self  as  a  variable  element.  Where  the  religious 
consciousness  emerges,  and  in  so  far  as  the  religious 
attitude    is     maintained,    the    finite     self    is    really 


VIII  VOLITION 

absorbed  ;  and  then  the  opposition  or  struggle  char- 
acteristic of  morality  ceases  to  exist  as  a  recognised 
and  fundamental  opposition. 

3.  We  have  spoken  of  the  self  as  the  supreme 
will  and  intelligence,  and  we  have  now  to  try  how 
far  the  idea  of  a  willing  self  can  be  blended  into  a 
whole  with  the  intelligent  self.  Summarising  the 
view  taken  in  the  last  lecture,  we  may  regard  the 
self  as  an  organised  fabric,  or  organism,  of  which 
the  material  is  ideas  taken  in  the  widest  sense  and 
carrying  with  them  an  accompaniment  of  feeling,  i.e. 
of  immediate  experience,  including  pleasure  and 
pain.  If  we  examine  what  this  self  is,  or  what 
there  is  in  it,  it  seems  to  be  really  the  whole  world 
as  it  is  within  the  experience  of  the  self — within,  i.e.^ 
the  single  experience  not  merely  as  a  train  of 
images  in  the  mind,  but  as  consisting  of  ideas 
referred  to  reality.  How  can  ideas,  in  this  way 
judged  to  be  real,  and  taken  as  true,  include  pur- 
poses ?  We  can  understand  that  they  should  include 
facts,  but  in  what  sense  can  they  include  purposes  ? 

(i.)  About  facts  as  constituting  the  self,  there  is 
not  much  more  to  be  said.  We  have  seen  that  the 
search  for  an  innermost  self,  a  sacred  holy  of  holies 
in  one's  self  which  never  changes  and  is  never 
obtruded  upon,  is  hopeless.  If  we  approach  it  in  a 
plain,  practical  way,  we  can  draw  no  hard  and  fast 
lines  between  elements  in  experience  which  belong 
to  the  self,  and  those  which  do  not.  As  James 
points  out,  the  loss  of  a  man's  friend,  or  house,  or 
profession,  the  loss  of  anything  with  which  he  is 
identified,  is  undoubtedly  a  diminution  of  the  self, 
since  it  makes  him  other  than  he  was,  and  less  than 


90  PSYCHOLOGY  OF  THE  MORAL  SELF  lect. 

he  was.  In  the  same  way,  we  must,  to  a  certain 
extent,  deem  it  true  that  a  man's  Hfe  consists  in  the 
abundance  of  the  things  which  he  possesses,  as — for 
good  or  evil — they  make  him  different. 

(ii.)  But  if  the  self  consists  of  those  ideas  of 
experience  which  are  held  to  be  facts,  how  can  they 
include  purposes,  since  an  idea  which  represents  a 
fact  would  seem  to  be  without  the  ideal  element,  or 
element  of  difference  from  reality,  which  is  required 
to  make  a  purpose  ?  How,  that  is,  can  such  an 
idea  suggest  action  ?  The  answer  would  seem  to 
be,  because  they  are,  or  in  so  far  as  they  are,  only 
conditionally  true.  All  our  ideas  are  more  or  less 
selective  ;  they  do  not  include  the  whole  possible  truth 
of  reality,  but  only  bits  and  extracts  of  it.  Hence, 
speaking  technically  and  strictly,  every  idea  is  referred 
to  reality,  not  absolutely,  but  only  conditionally  ;  in 
other  words,  certain  reservations  have  to  be  made, 
apart  from  which  it  would  not  be  really  true.  We 
may  apply  this  to  a  real  purpose,  or  a  purpose  that 
is  at  the  same  time  a  fact,  in  this  way  :  your  idea, 
say  of  the  house  in  which  you  live,  is  your  normal 
idea  of  it  which  goes  on  from  day  to  day  and  week 
to  week,  as  it  exists  and  is  used ;  so  if  any  accident 
happens  to  any  part  of  it,  if  rain  comes  in  at  the 
roof,  at  once  your  permanent  idea  of  the  house 
differs  from  given  reality  ;  the  reality  has  got  some- 
thing in  it  which  your  normal  idea  has  not.  Your 
idea  can  tJien  only  be  true  if  it  is  conditional,  and 
it  would  be  expressed  as  "  the  house  will  be  all 
right  ivJien  the  roof  is  mended " ;  that  is  to  say,  it 
will  again  conform  to  the  normal  and  persistent  idea 
of  it,  what  it  does  for  you  and  its  use  in  your  life. 
In   the  same  way,  the  idea  of  a  friend   includes  the 


VIII  VOLITION  91 

rendering  of  service,  and  becomes  conditional  as 
soon  as  the  necessity  for  service  has  arisen  and  not 
yet  been  met.  We  say  "  he  will  be  just  what  I 
think  him  if  he  does  so  and  so  "  ;  that  is,  our  idea 
of  him  is  for  the  moment  discrepant  from  the  actual 
reality  ;  there  is  something  which  the  persistent  idea 
requires  which  does  not  yet  exist  in  the  reality.  It 
is  thus  that  ideals  are  related  to  ideas  in  pure  logic 
or  pure  psychology,  and  we  may  of  course  apply  it 
to  much  larger  subjects.  We  may  say  that,  e.g.,  the 
life  of  the  people  would  be  what  it  should  be  if  so 
and  so  were  done  ;  we  assert  something  that,  as  it 
were,  exists  in  reality  but  for  an  obstruction,  but 
for  some  element  in  which  reality  deviates  for  the 
moment  from  our  normal  idea  of  what  the  reality 
really  is,  or  means  to  be. 

This  view  of  the  nature  of  ideals  is  important  as 
requiring  us — quite  rightly — when  we  speak  of  an 
ideal,  to  state  the  actual  reality  upon  which  it  is 
based,  and  the  definite  condition  which  separates 
our  idea  from  the  reality  ;  to  state,  that  is,  what 
it  is  which  exists,  and  what  we  mean  to  do  to  bring 
it  into  harmony  with  its  normal  or  persistent  function 
or  purpose.  This  has  taken  us  somewhat  beyond 
Psychology,  but  it  illustrates  what  we  have  been 
trying  to  suggest,  that  the  self  which  really  exists 
is  at  once  a  moral  and  an  intelligent  self,  a  fabric 
of  ideas  accompanied  with  their  affections  of  pleasure 
and  pain,  and  having  this  tendency  to  assert  them- 
selves ill  so  far  as  they  become  partly  discrepant 
from  reality. 

We  now  have  to  approach  the  question  whether 
this  self,  with  its  content  of  ideas  and  ideals,  is  ex- 
clusively and  essentially  social.      Take  for  instance 


92  PSYCHOLOGY  OF  THE  MORAL  SELF  lect. 

the  idea  of  truth  or  of  beauty  ;  can  we  show  that 
they  are  deducible  without  curtailment  from  the  idea 
of  the  common  or  social  good  ?  The  answer  seems 
to  turn  on  what  we  mean  by  social,  and  the  best 
way  to  treat  it  will  be  to  examine  a  certain  form  of 
what  is  meant  by  social,  and  then  return  to  this 
contrast  of  social  with  non-social. 

4.  The  relation  of  the  social  purpose  to  any 
other  purpose  is  sometimes  identified  with  that  of 
altruism  to  egoism,^  and  we  may  examine  this  latter 
distinction  first  as  a  contrast  to  the  view  we  have 
been  taking.  This  is  a  distinction  founded  on  our 
mere  bodily  separateness  ;  I  am  the  self  connected 
with  my  body,  and  others  are  the  selves  connected 
with  other  bodies.  On  this  view  society  becomes 
"  self  and  others "  ;  but,  as  Mr.  Sidgwick  has 
maintained,  it  is  clear  that  from  this  point  of  view 
no  one  self  can  have  prerogative  over  the  others, 
so  that  in  fact  society  comes  to  consist  entirely  of 
"  others."  This  is  purely  psychological  individualism, 
starting  from  the  separate  body  as  the  separate  self ; 
and  there  are  several  ways  in  which  we  may  attempt 
to  arrive  at  morality  based  on  such  individualism. 

(i.)  We  may  hold  with  Professor  Bain  {Emotions 
and  Will,  p.  436  sq})  that,  speaking  generally,  all  will 
is  selfish  because  it  aims  at  a  state  of  one's  self; 
and  that  the  character  of  a  rational  being  is  "  to 
desire  everything  exactly  according  to  its  pleasure 
value." 

(ii.)  Or  we  may  take  what  seems  a  more  natural 
though  perhaps  less  consistent  view,  and  say  that 
the    natural    will    with    which    we   start    is    egoistic, 

^  For  a  discussion  of  this  see  Mackenzie,  MaJitial  of  Ethics,  ch.  9. 


VIII  VOLITION  93 

looking  at  everything  from  the  point  of  view  of 
its  own  particular  interests  ;  but  that  morality  is 
altruistic,  and  aims  at  the  welfare  of  others.  Re- 
flection shows  a  man  that  from  a  generalised  point 
of  view  his  own  particular  acts  or  purposes  are  of  no 
more  importance  than  those  of  other  people,  and 
thus  we  get  to  Bentham's  rule,  that  one  is  to  count 
for  one,  and  no  one  for  more  than  one.  For  all 
practical  matters,  including  legislation,  this  is  a  good 
sound  rule. 

(iii.)  Again,  we  may  follow  Herbert  Spencer  and 
"  conciliate "  egoism  and  altruism.  It  is  obvious 
that  de  facto  either  of  them  is  a  means  to  the  other, 
or  that  either  of  them  requires  the  other  as  a  means 
to  it  ;  and  so  it  would  seem  to  matter  little  really 
which  we  pursue,  since  to  pursue  it  wisely  we  shall 
have  to  pursue  the  other  as  well.  This  involves  the 
great  practical  truth  that  we  cannot  get  our  own 
ends  satisfactorily  if  we  neglect  other  people,  nor  be 
of  much  good  to  others  if  we  neglect  ourselves.  But 
can  we  get  any  further  so  long  as  we  retain  this 
basis  of  self  and  others?  The  mere  fact  of  their 
being  others  does  not  seem  to  have  any  special  kind 
of  purpose  in  it,  nor  the  fact  of  a  mere  number  of 
persons  to  open  up  any  moral  end.  It  is  parallel  to 
the  logical  question  of  the  relation  between  connota- 
tion and  denotation  ;  we  may  try  to  distinguish  the 
denotation,  but  it  is  not  really  possible  to  think  of 
the  individual  thing  with  no  connotation. 

The  real  question  must  be,  zvJiat  sort  of  thing  is 
it  that  these  others  are  ?  zuhat  is  it  that  we  want 
the  number  of?  Taking  this  as  the  governing  con- 
sideration we  may  now  leave  the  conception  that 
society   consists   of  self  and   others,  and   try  to  get 


94  PSYCHOLOGY  OF  THE  MORAL  SELF  lect. 

at  the  thing  from  a  different  way  of  looking  at  the 
matter.  The  claim  of  society  upon  us  does  not 
seem  to  be  founded  on  the  fact  that  it  is  a  plurality 
of  bodily  selves — or,  if  you  like,  of  intelligences — 
but  rather  in  the  particular  nature  that  their  co- 
operation reveals  ;  and,  psychologically  speaking,  it 
seems  plain  that  we  always  act  from  the  content 
of  the  self,  which  must  consist  of  definite  or  positive 
ideas  or  ideals.  It  is  not  that  other  selves  are 
merely  instruments  to  the  realisation  of  our  ideals, 
/  /but  that  we  recognise  the  moral  self  to  be  the 
i  realisation  of  a  certain  nature  which  is  the  outcome 
'  of  those  selves  working  together  in  society.  In 
other  words,  when  we  deal  with  other  people,  how- 
ever much  we  think  we  are  being  altruistic,  our 
relation  to  them — of  benevolence,  justice,  etc. — is 
founded  upon  some  more  positive  point  of  view  than 
that  of  mere  otherness ;  it  is  based,  for  instance, 
upon  their  humanity  or  citizenship,  their  capacity 
for  education  or  for  religion.  We  always  consider 
what  nature  the  individuals  concerned  are  capable 
of  developing,  and  this  constitutes  {e.g.)  our  standard 
in  dealing  with  animals  and  children.  We  regulate 
our  treatment  of  them  in  accordance  with  the  nature 
or  capabilities  we  find  in  them. 

5.  Having  decided,  then,  to  regard  the  self  as  a 
positive  content  to  be  realised,  a  certain  set  of  ideas, 
let  us  now  look  at  the  system  of  ideas  and  ask 
whether — excluding  the  bad  self — there  are  non- 
social  elements  in  the  legitimate  moral  self  We 
will  take  it  as  mere  matter  of  fact,  a  question  of 
the  moral  consciousness.  It  is  clear,  in  the  first 
place,  that  there  is  no  intelligible  principle  by  which 


VIII  VOLITION  95 

egoism  equals  the  bad  and  altruism  equals  the  good  ; 
but  it  might  quite  well  be  the  case  that  all  content 
which  can  be  systematised  within  the  self  is,  as  a 
matter  of  fact,  social.  People  with  a  profound  faith 
in  all  good  things  can  always  affirm  that  this  is 
so  by  bringing  in  "  the  long  run."  Is  devotion  to 
metaphysics,  e.g.,  only  justifiable  on  the  ground  of 
the  welfare  of  society  ?  if  so,  it  may  be  said,  "  No 
doubt  it  is  not  immediately  conducive  to  the  welfare 
of  society,  but  '  in  the  long  run  '  it  will  prove  to  be 
so  " — which  is  polite,  if  nothing  else.  But  there  are 
more  difficult  cases  than  this.  You  may  find  a  man 
self-condemned  before  his  own  tribunal,  because  his 
intellectual  being  is  in  disorder  and  he  is  not  trying 
to  right  it,  as  much  as  he  would  be  if  his  social  life 
were  in  disorder.  Must  such  a  man  prove  that 
systematising  his  intellectual  being  is  conducive  to 
social  welfare,  before  it  is  right  for  him  to  make 
that  his  principal  object  in  life  ?  Must  he  show  that 
his  intellectual  completeness  is  a  social  ideal,  and 
can  this  be  shown  ? 

There  is  one  way  of  disposing  of  this  question 
without  throwing  any  light  upon  it,  and  that  is  by 
widening  the  meaning  of  the  "social  self"  to  include 
the  harmonious  adjustment  and  development  of  the 
co-operative  selves.  In  this  way  we  may  get  in 
whatever  can  be  shown  to  be  requisite  to  the  entire 
system  of  ideas,  but  it  involves  an  evasion  of  the 
question  "  Is  it  strictly  social  ?  " 

Another  way  of  regarding  it  (which  I  prefer)  is  to 
say  that  all  the  great  contents  of  developed  human 
self — truth,  beauty,  religion,  and  social  morality — 
are  all  of  them  but  modes  of  expression  of  the  ideal 
self      In   any  given  social   organisation   the   number 


96  PSYCHOLOGY  OF  THE  MORAL  SELF  lect. 

and  nature  of  the  entities  composing  it  seem  to  a 
certain  extent  accidental  and  arbitrary  ;  and  clearly 
the  given  society  or  organisation  is  open  to  criticism. 
It  is  not  ultimate,  and  we  criticise  it  in  respect  of 
its  power  to  find  a  complete  harmony  for  the  co- 
operating selves.  It  is  interesting  to  note  that  in  Plato's 
Republic  the  idtimate  compass  of  life  is  the  Good, 
Truth,  and  Beauty  of  the  Universe  ;  in  other  words, 
the  greatest  possibilities  of  human  nature.  It  would 
be  almost  intolerable  to  have  one's  moral  self  given 
up  to  a  little  Greek  community  of  ten  or  twenty 
thousand  men,  and  to  have  all  one's  prospects 
depending  upon  the  systematisation  of  one's  will  in 
accordance  with  the  momentary  end  of  that  com- 
munity ;  and  accordingly  Plato  brings  in  this  great 
doctrine  of  metaphysics,  which  has  the  effect  of 
acting  as  a  criticism.  This  is  the  final  form  of  his 
ideal,  and  in  it  we  have  a  certain  grasp  of  something 
beyond  the  mere  social  organisation. 

It  may  be  suggested,  therefore,  that  social  duty 
— the  duty  which  arises  out  of  the  relations  of 
persons — is  rather  one  expression  of  the  universal  self 
than  its  ultimate  constitutive  element;  i.e.  that  the  rela- 
tions with  a  number  of  persons  are  one  consequence 
of  the  nature  of  the  self,-  one  form  of  its  universality. 

6.  Does  this  destroy  self-sacrifice  ?  If  in  getting 
rid  of  altruism  we  destroy  the  distinction  between 
selfishness  and  self-sacrifice,  there  is,  of  course,  a  loss 
to  moral  philosophy.  We  must  account  for  "  unself- 
ishness" in  some  way,  and  we  may  perhaps  apply  these 
terms  to  the  different  ways  in  which  the  systematisa- 
tion of  the  self  may  be  carried  out,  or  again  not 
carried  out.      Let  us  try  four  correlative  terms  : — 


VIII  VOLITION  97 

(i.)  Self-assertion  and  selfishness  as  the  good  and 
bad  terms  of  one  order  ;  (ii.)  self-sacrifice  and  self- 
destruction  or  abandonment  as  good  and  bad  terms 
of  the  other  order. 

(i.)  By  self-assertion  one  would  mean  the  attempt 
to  be  true  to  yourself  in  the  fullest  sense  ;  that  is,  to 
make  as  complete  a  system  as  possible  of  the  ideas 
and  purposes  of  the  self  It  would  be  the  attempt 
at  a  certain  kind  of  perfection  ;  not  the  individual 
perfection  of  the  saint  cut  loose  from  the  world,  but 
a  perfection  including  very  likely  work  for  others. 
Selfishness  would  be  the  same  sort  of  thing  caricatured. 
It  would  be  an  attempt  at  a  kind  of  system,  but 
narrowed  rather  than  enlarged  ;  there  would  always 
be  a  certain  indifference  to  the  purposes  in  them- 
selves, a  tendency  to  take  up  a  purpose  or  drop  it 
according  as  it  showed  a  tendency  to  private  satis- 
faction or  the  reverse.  But  on  the  whole  it  would 
tend  to  an  apparent  removal  of  discord  in  the  self, 
by  narrowing  instead  of  by  enlarging. 

(ii.)  Self- sacrifice,  again,  as  we  actually  find  it, 
would  mean  the  realisation,  or  attempt  at  realisation, 
of  some  special  and  important  element  which  under 
the  particular  conditions  is  incompatible  w^ith  the 
system  and  balance  of  the  self  as  a  w^hole.  It  would 
not  include  the  whole  content  of  the  self,  but  would 
be  the  choice  of  what  seemed  all -important  in  a 
sense,  and  that  again  might  perfectly  well  be  some 
great  work  "  for  others."  On  the  other  hand  it 
might  just  as  well  involve  the  abandonment  of  all 
work  for  others  ;  but  it  would  still  be  self-sacrifice  if 
it  was  a  fair  surrender  of  self — of  the  idea  of  perfec- 
tion or  completeness  of  the  whole  self-system  —  in 
order    to     realise    something    which    seemed    to    be 

II 


98  PSYCHOLOGY  OF  THE  MORAL  SELF      lect.  viii 

supremely  important.  The  complete  antithesis  of 
self-sacrifice  is  self-destruction  or  self- abandonment^ 
where  some  wretched  creature  loses  himself  for 
something  that  does  no  good  to  any  one,  for  some 
end  that  is  thoroughly  trivial,  some  freak  or  fancy. 
It  differs  from  selfishness  in  that  it  is  passionate, 
while  selfishness  is  cool. 

What  we  understand,  then,  by  selfishness  and  self- 
sacrifice  does  not  draw  its  meaning  from  the  anti- 
thesis of  self  and  others,  but  from  the  different  ways  of 
using  the  contents  which  constitute  our  self,  and  all 
of  which  practically  extend  beyond  our  mere  bodily 
self  Even  in  the  search  for  private  pleasure  we  use 
contents  that  go  beyond  the  bodily  self,  since  we 
are  obliged  to  act  for  the  welfare  of  others  ;  so  that 
even  in  the  pursuit  of  mere  pleasure  we  get  beyond 
the  distinction  of  egoism  and  altruism. 


LECTURE    IX 

REASONABLE    ACTION 

The  difficult  question  of  "  reasonable  action,"  as 
the  phrase  goes,  receives  considerable  attention  in 
Mr.  Sidgwick's  Method  of  Ethics^  and  he  has  also 
written  an  interesting  article  in  Mind  (N.  S.  vol.  ii. 
No.  6)  on  "  Unreasonable  Action."  We  will  con- 
sider some  of  the  difficulties  which  have  to  be  met. 

I.  Taking  first  the  psychological  meaning  of  the 
phrase,  we  get  something  of  a  contradiction.  The 
earliest  distinct  meaning  of  the  term  "  to  reason  " 
is  that  of  computation  or  calculation.  Our  word 
"  reason  "  corresponds  with  the  Latin  ratio  and  the 
Greek  \6yo(;,  and  in  its  simplest  sense  that  means 
what  we  call  ratio,  or  sometimes  proportion.  Reason 
in  this  sense,  then,  means  the  putting  together  of 
ratios,  or  the  comparison  of  numerical  relations  in 
one  sense  or  another,  in  order  to  elicit  the  conclusion, 
the  result  or  answer. 

In  very  early  language,  as  we  have  pointed  out, 
there  were  words  indicating  knowledge  which  seem 
capable  of  being  applied  to  almost  any  content  of 
the  mind  ;  the  attempt  to  distinguish  accurately,  e.^\ 
to    distinguish    "  reason,"    came    later.      One    of   the 


100  PSYCPIOLOGY  OF  THE  MORAL  SELF  lect. 

most  definite,  and  at  the  same  time  most  difficult,  of 
these  early  meanings  is  this  of  computation  or  cal- 
culation. We  find  it,  e.g.,  in  Plato,  and  there  is 
evidence  of  it  in  the  relation  of  the  words  "  ratio  " 
and  "  reason."  In  a  slightly  enlarged  sense  we  may 
take  it  as  the  intellectual  perception  of  relations.^ 
But  how  can  it,  in  this  sense,  either  mark  a  distinc- 
tion between  desirable  and  undesirable  objects  of 
action  ;  or,  on  the  other  hand,  be  in  itself  an  impulse 
to  action  ?  Taking  as  the  simplest  type  of  this 
kind  of  reason  the  judgment  "  two  and  two  make 
four,"  it  is  not  clear  how  it  can  be  connected  with, 
or  influence,  the  impulses  to  action. 

There  is  a  famous  saying  of  Aristotle  that  "  in- 
telligence by  itself  is  not  a  motive  power,"  in  which 
the  term  used  for  intelligence  is  that  which  Plato 
applies  to  the  mathematical  reason,  the  perception 
of  relations.  It  expresses  the  difficulty  that  at  first 
sight  the  idea  of  reasonable  action  is  a  contradiction. 
We  cannot  see  how  the  two  terms  hang  together, 
nor  what  is  meant  by  calling  an  action  reasonable. 
For  instance,  does  the  fact  that  more  calculation  is 
involved  in  the  framing  of  any  idea  make  it  a  more 
reasonable  object  of  moral  action  ? 

2.  Passing  on  from  this  elementary  meaning,  we 
may  consider  a  few  explanations  of  the  term. 

(<x)  Means  known. — One  way  is  to  say  that  action 
becomes  reasonable  when  the  means  to  a  given  end 
are  properly  calculated.  The  great  typical  theory 
which  reduces  moral  reasonableness  to  this  is  that 
of  Hedonism,  according  to  which  the  end  is  fixed 
and   constant  (the  amount  of  pleasure),  and   moral 

^  Cf.  Hobbes's  Co?npuiatioti  or  Logic. 


IX  REASONABLE  ACTION 


lOI 


deliberation  is  the  calculation  of  means  to  attain  that 
end.  The  same  meaning  can  be  ascribed,  whatever 
the  end,  provided  that  the  end  is  assumed  to  be 
given  ;  and  thus  we  might  explain  "  reasonable 
action  "  to  mean  "  action  calculated  so  as  to  be  suit- 
able to  the  accepted  end."  This  does  not  necessarily 
involve  the  admission  that  amount  of  pleasure  is  the 
sole  and  universal  end  of  action  ;  but  there  is  still 
the  difficulty  that  mere  conduciveness  to  a  given  end 
does  not  seem  to  express  the  full  sense  in  which  we 
use  the  words  "  reasonable  action,"  for,  as  Sidgwick , 
is  constantly  insisting,  they  come  to  mean  almost 
the  same  as  right  action. 

There  is  one  way  of  explaining  the  ordinary 
usage  which  may  carry  us  a  little  further.  If  we 
take  as  the  end  something  very  abstract,  such  as 
goodness,  perfection,  or  happiness,  then  its  concrete 
realisation  is  really  made  what  it  is  by  the  means 
we  adopt  to  it.  If,  e.g.,  you  say  your  object  is  to  be 
good  and  to  live  a  good  life,  then  I  ask  you  what 
you  mean  by  a  good  life  ;  and  the  concrete  way  of 
living  which  you  point  out  as  a  means  to  good  life 
in  your  sense  really  qualifies  the  whole  thing,  and  is 
the  first  distinct  statement  which  gives  me  a  definite 
idea  of  what  you  mean  by  good  life.  When  the 
end  is  very  abstract,  then  the  means,  taken  in  a 
wider  sense,  is  really  the  beginning  of  definiteness  ; 
so  that  even  when  we  start  from  the  simple  idea  of  cal-^ 
culating  the  means  to  a  given  end,  we  find  the  reason-  ' 
ing  will  affect  our  concrete  notion  of  the  end  itself. 

Here  we  get  a  point  of  ethical — perhaps  also  of 
psychological — interest.  The  means  which  we  adopt 
to  any  purpose  are,  ethically  speaking,  much  the 
same   as   consequences.       They   are   something   that 


102  PSYCHOLOGY  OF  THE  MORAL  SELF  lect. 

has  to  be  taken  into  the  bargain,  the  price  wc  pay 
for  the  action  ;  and  we  cannot  really  know  what  is 
the  cost  of  the  purpose  as  a  whole  until  we  know 
what  means  we  are  prepared  to  take  in  order  to 
carry  it  out.  Until  we  see  how  the  whole  thing 
looks,  as  set  out  in  that  way,  we  do  not  know  what 
the  ethical  cost  really  is,  and  how  it  is  naorally 
related  to  our  scheme  of  life.  Here,  then,  we  get 
beyond  the  mere  calculation  of  the  means  to  the 
end,  and  a  further  meaning  is  suggested. 

(yS)  End  fully  and  clearly  conceived. — Reasonable 
action  may  perhaps  mean  that  the  end  of  our  action 
is  clearly  and  completely  conceived,  is  set  before  us 
in  all  its  causes  and  all  its  effects.  Such  action  is 
deliberative  as  opposed  to  impulsive,  and  we  should 
certainly  be  apt  to  say  that  a  man  is  acting  reason- 
ably when  he  acts  deliberately,  with  full  considera- 
tion of  the  means  to  what  he  wants  to  bring  about 
and  of  the  consequences  of  what  he  wants  to  bring 
about.  On  the  other  hand,  the  object  or  purpose, 
though  quite  plainly  and  completely  conceived,  may 
be  unreasonable  in  the  general  sense  we  are  now 
considering.  If,  e.g.^  you  deliberately  set  yourself 
to  overreach  another  person,  to  get  more  than  your 
share,  you  might  quite  naturally  be  said  to  be  an 
unreasonable  man,  to  be  acting  unreasonably.  Or 
if,  again,  a  judge  has  decided  against  me  in  the 
discharge  of  his  duty,  I  should  be  said  to  act  un- 
reasonably if  I  tried,  however  deliberately,  to  revenge 
myself  on  him. 

We  may  get  this  kind  of  unreasonableness  either 
from  passion  or  ignorance ;  probably  in  all  cases 
there  is  a  certain  amount  of  ignorance  involved,  and 
so   far  we    may   say   the   action    is   not   clearly   and 


IX  REASONABLE  ACTION  103 

completely  conceived.  But  leaving  out  the  great 
moral  purposes  of  life — i.e.  not  saying  that  indiffer- 
ence to  them  constitutes  intellectual  ignorance — we 
know  that  there  are  people  who  pursue  quite  relent- 
lessly a  bad  or  selfish  purpose,  which  is  conceived 
with  perfect  clearness  ;  and  even  these  would  prob- 
ably be  said  to  be  acting  unreasonably.  Apart 
from  these  it  is  probable  that  most  revengeful 
people,  the  people  with  a  grievance,  have  a  good 
deal  of  intellectual  darkness  in  their  minds  as  well 
as  of  passion  ;  they  are  generally  imbued  with  what 
we  may  call  fictitious  motives. 

(7)  Reasonable^  then^  may  —fair,  impartial. — We 
find  a  further  contrast  for  reasonable  action  in 
this  fact,  that  a  man  who  is  quite  deliberate  and 
clear  in  his  ideas  may  yet  be  pronounced  unreason- 
able, unfair,  unjust,  selfish,  partial,  prejudiced  by 
passion,  because  he  is  trying  to  overreach  some  one. 
This  brings  us  nearer  to  the  sense  in  which  wc 
commonly  use  the  word  unreasonable  in  moral 
matters.  It  means  that  in  some  way  a  man  has 
let  his  passion  have  too  free  a  sway  ;  or  that  he 
claims  too  much  to  himself;  and  in  opposition  to 
this,  reasonable  action  would  be  described  by  such 
words  as  impartial,  unbiassed,  disinterested. 

(S)  Reason  v.  Feeling. — Under  this  head  we  get 
two  meanings  for  "  reasonable  action."  (i.)  It  may 
imply  the  collision  between  Reason  and  Feeling, 
and  then  unreasonable  means  self-indulgent,  self- 
absorbed,  letting  personal  desires  get  the  mastery. 
We  constantly  think  of  Reason  as  opposed  to  Desire, 
and  in  this  sense  we  think  of  it  rather  as  negative 
than  positive  ;  wc  must  all  tend  to  feel  that  to  the 
commonplace  moralist  the  function  of  the  Reason  is 


I04  PSYCHOLOGY  OF  THE  MORAL  SELF  lect. 

to  point  out  to  us  from  day  to  day  what  not  to  do. 
Plato,  in  his  Republic^  when  he  is  describing  the 
two  elements  in  the  will  of  man,  says  that  there  is 
the  appetite  making  you  desire  to  drink,  and  some- 
thing else  which  prevents  you,  and  that  something 
else  is  finally  the  Reason  (which  he  is  speaking  of 
as  the  "  calculating  "  faculty).  This  becomes  intelli- 
gible only  in  connection  with  the  positive  content 
of  the  Reason,  which  we  shall  try  to  exhibit  in  its 
true  character  ;  and  this  appears  in  the  Republic  in 
the  sixth  and  seventh  books.  But  in  all  common 
life  and  commonplace  morality  the  positive  character 
and  content  of  the  Reason  is  apt  to  be  left  in  the 
background.  Reason  appears  chiefly  as  something 
which  commands,  and  commands  by  way  of  pro- 
hibition ;  it  checks  and  "  inhibits,"  as  the  physiologists 
say.  We  cannot  accept  the  suggestion  that  the 
mark  of  reasonable  action  is  either  the  absence  of 
Feeling  or  opposition  to  Feeling.  (Kant  had,  at 
one  period,  some  idea  of  this  kind,  and  within  recent 
years  it  has  been  revived  by  Munsterberg.^)  It  is 
quite  true,  as  we  have  seen,  that  action  may  start 
through  pure  ideas,  without  desire,  but  on  the  other 
hand  it  does  not  follow  that  ideomotor  action  is 
reasonable  action.  There  is  ideomotor  action  in  the 
case  of  a  man  who  is  practically  a  monomaniac,  and 
in  whom  a  dominant  idea  upsets  his  normal  ideas. 
(ii.)  Obedience  to  a  Maxim  or  Truism. — We  get 
\l  the  second  form  of  this  idea  of  reasonableness  in  the 
suggestion  that  it  may  consist  in  obedience  to  this 
or  that  abstract  maxim  which  approves  itself  to  the 
intellect  by  a  sort  of  simplicity.  It  seems  natural 
to   us,  a  priori  as    people   say,   convincing  in    some 

^   Ursprung  d.  Sittlichheit,  p.  27. 


IX  REASONABLE  ACTION  105 

form.  The  English  philosopher  Clarke  thought 
that  we  could  somehow  account  for  reasonableness 
of  action  by  comparing  the  conceptions  of  moral 
relations  to  the  perception  of  intellectual  relations  ; 
that  in  some  way  we  can  see  the  rightness  of  moral 
relations  as  we  see  that  two  and  two  make  four,  or 
as  we  see  the  more  beautiful  and  complex  relations 
in  higher  mathematical  ideas.  But  he  also  formulates 
two  moral  laws  which  seem  to  be  taken  as  certain 
because  they  are  so  simple  that  they  commend 
themselves  as  truisms  to  the  intellect.  Sidgwick 
approves  these  laws,  and  it  would  perhaps  be  fair  to 
say  that  what  positive  doctrine  there  is  in  Methods 
of  Ethics  is  equivalent  to  them.^  They  are  called 
the  laws  of  Equity  and  Benevolence,  and  they  are 
derived  from  the  principle  we  have  already  dealt 
with,  that  we  must,  theoretically,  suppose  one  person 
to  be  as  good  or  as  important  as  another,  if  there 
is  no  reason  for  making  any  difference  between 
them. 

The  Law  of  Benevolence  runs  :  "  What  I 
account  reasonable  for  me  to  do  for  myself,  I 
account  equally  reasonable  for  me  to  do  for  others." 
In  plain  English  :  "  What  is  good  for  me  is  good 
for  others."  And  the  Law  of  Equity  is  just  the 
converse  :  "  What  it  is  reasonable  in  other  people 
to  do  for  me,  it  is  also  reasonable  that  I  should  do 
for  them."  Of  course,  as  Sidgwick  points  out,  these 
axioms  involve  an  assumption,  which  they  merely 
apply  ;  the  assumption  that  there  is  something  that 
is  "  reasonable  "  for  me  to  do  for  myself 

Given   this  assumption   that    there   is    something 
"  reasonable  "  for  me,  then  the  axiom  that  it  is  equally 

^  Cf.  Methods  of  Ethics,  pp.  360  S(f. 


io6  PSYCHOLOGY  OF  THE  MORAL  SELF  lect. 

reasonable  for  others  is  natural  enough  ;  it  finds  a 
common  expression  in  the  proverb,  "  What  is  sauce 
for  the  goose  is  sauce  for  the  gander."  Assuming 
that  A's  happiness  is  worth  seeking,  then  B's  happi- 
ness is  worth  seeking  also  in  so  far  as  it  is  not 
different  from  A's  ;  i.e.  in  so  far  as  B  corresponds  to 
the  general  type  of  A.  The  real  value  of  the 
axioms  lies  in  the  qualities  taken  as  the  base  of  their 
application.  By  taking  the  distinctively  human 
qualities  we  get  a  wide  humanitarian  principle  ;  if 
we  were  to  include  the  accidents  of  birth  or  learning, 
rank  or  position,  we  should  not  get  the  same  result 

The  abstract  idea  of  "  reasonable,"  then,  really 
indicates  that  there  must  be  a  concrete  purpose  to 
which  the  term  moral  reasonableness,  strictly  speaking, 
applies.  The  claim  is  relative  to  particular  standards, 
and  we  are  in  the  habit  of  assuming  for  general 
purposes  a  sort  of  general  average  standard  ;  in  this 
way  we  get  the  idea  that  the  reasonable  is  mediocre, 
the  average,  or  the  "golden  mean."  We  get,  in  fact, 
a  nesrative  idea  of  it,  to  which  is  due  the  remarkable 
and  somewhat  melancholy  fact  that  when  we  call 
upon  people  to  "  be  reasonable,"  we  are  generally 
urging  them  not  to  do  something.  When  we  urge 
any  one  to  do  something  arduous,  to  break  through  a 
commonplace  tendency,  to  make  a  generous  exertion, 
we  do  not  say  "  Do  be  reasonable  "  ;  but  rather  when 
we  want  him  to  come  down  to  some  sort  of  average 
standard. 

But  this  negative  or  abstract  idea,  so  far  as  it  is 
right,  can  only  rest  on  a  positive  or  concrete  idea. 
As  stated  in  these  simple  truisms,  the  "  reasonable  " 
seems  to  be  just  a  very  brief  and  unimportant  out- 
line abstracted  out  of  a  real  organised  purpose  of  life. 


IX  REASONABLE  ACTION  107 

It  is  from  the  great  practical  purposes  of  life  that  it 
must  be  derived. 

This  brings  us  to  the  final  suggestion.  Reason- 
able action  is  not  (a)  opposed  to  ignorance  of  means 
chiefly,  nor  yet  (/3)  to  ignorance  of  the  end  chiefly. 
Nor  is  it  opposed  chiefly  (7)  to  the  unjust,  nor  (8)  to 
action  impelled  by  feeling,  or  contradicting  one  of  the 
obvious  truisms  of  general  application.  Yet  it  has  a 
certain  relation  to  all  of  this,  and  may  be  summed 
up  as  action  directed  to  a  positive  object  having  the 
character  of  rationality. 

(e)  Reasonableness  as  a  quality  of  a  concrete 
purpose,  then,  is  the  final  suggestion.  We  have  seen 
that  the  view  of  Reason  as  calculation  suggests  a 
positive  end  ;  that  what  we  took  to  be  a  simple 
isolated  purpose  becomes,  when  we  have  calculated 
and  estimated  all  the  means  and  all  the  consequences, 
no  longer  an  isolated  object,  but  a  scheme  of  life. 
In  a  similar  way  an  abstract  axiom  or  truism  demands 
explanation  and  filling  in  ;  it  appears  that  what  is 
satisfactory  for  A  would  not  be  suitable  for  B,  and 
thus  the  positive  nature  of  A  and  B  has  to  be  taken 
into  consideration. 

And  so  we  arrive  at  the  notion  of  a  systematic 
purpose  in  life,  in  which  the  contents  of  the  self  can 
be  organised.  Such  a  purpose,  if  it  is  rational,  must 
have  the  two  great  characteristics  of  self- consistency 
and  consistency  witJi  the  ivJiole  of  experience  ;  that  is, 
as  we  said  in  the  last  lecture,  it  must  be  so  far  one 
with  reality  that  the  conditions  distinguishing  it 
from  the  actual  reality  are  assignable  and  can  be 
explained,  while  they  also  point  in  the  direction  of  a 
more  harmonious  reality.  It  is  very  important  to  a 
true  ideal  or  purpose  that  it  should  be  understood  as 


io8  PSYCHOLOGY  OF  THE  MORAL  SELF  lect. 

the  whole  systematised  self  or  experience,  not  merely 
the  unreal  element.  Our  ideal  of  society,  e.g.,  is  not 
confined  to  the  future,  nor  to  the  points  at  which  our 
opinions  become  discrepant  from  reality  ;  it  is  the 
normal  view  of  social  facts,  past,  present,  and  future, 
as  we  understand  them.  The  unrealised  element  is 
a  mere  rounding  off,  or  completion  of  the  whole.  A 
certain  modification  from  the  actual  fact  may  be 
necessary  to  a  practical  ideal,  but  it  is  all,  so  to  say, 
in  one  piece  ;  we  have  not  a  given  fact  on  one  side, 
and  an  idea  of  something  future  on  the  other.  The 
discrepancy  in  your  ideal  from  reality  depends  for 
justification  on  your  right  understanding  of  the  given 
fact  as  it  is.  It  is  a  mistake,  therefore,  to  say  that 
the  ideal  is  confined  to  the  future.  Just  as  Natural 
Science  has  to  do  with  what  happened  in  the  past  or 
at  any  time,  so  a  right  moral  ideal  has  to  do  with 
giving  true  value  to  elements  in  the  past  or  present. 
To  understand  how  this  really  applies  to  Psycho- 
logy, we  may  consider  what  is  involved  in  an 
analysis  of  life.  Professor  Bonamy  Price,  when 
analysing  the  working  processes  of  a  great  London 
bank,  spoke  of  laying  it  on  the  dissection  table  ;  and 
our  procedure  should  be  something  like  this  when 
we  are  considering  what  human  lives  are  really  like. 
For  instance,  we  may  analyse  a  moral  life  with  a 
view  of  bringing  out  its  parallelism  with  the  theo- 
retical structure  of  the  intelligence  ;  and  we  may 
consider  how  its  purposes  are  combined  together,  and 
co-ordinated  with  each  other  or  subordinated  to  some 
one  purpose,  noting  how  the  system  fails  in  some 
parts  and  is  more  systematically  combined  in  others. 
And  we  may  ask  how  the  object  of  the  will  can  be 
said  to   have   the    characteristic   of  rationality,   and 


IX  REASONABLE  ACTION 


109 


find  that,  as  with  other  organic  structures,  it  Hes  in 
its  capabiHty  of  evading  discord,  of  receiving  new 
experience  without  creating  discord.^ 

3.  There  arc  two  final  characteristics  of  moral 
action  to  be  noted  ;  i.e.  Effort  and  Self-judgment. 
How  far  are  these  essential  to  moral  action  ? 

Effort. — (i.)  Professor  James  deals  with  effort  in  the 
Text-book,  pp.  443  sq.  He  calls  attention  to  the 
fact  that  the  sensual  man  never  ventures  to  speak  of 
his  conduct  as  a  victory  over  his  ideals,  whereas  a 
man  who  has  made  an  effort  to  do  right  speaks  of 
a  victory  over  his  passions.  Common  language 
recognises  effort  in  the  one  case  and  yielding  in 
the  other.  This  effort,  James  says,  is  the  effort  of 
attention  to  an  idea,  and  he  illustrates  it  by  the 
elementary  case  of  keeping  the  right  name  of  the 
action  proposed  before  the  mind.  If  the  man  who 
was  tempted  to  drink,  instead  of  saying  "  this  is  to 
keep  me  warm,"  or  calling  it  "  hospitality,"  were  to 
keep  before  his  mind  that  it  is  "  drinking,"  it  would 
be  moral  effort.' 

It  is  perhaps  a  fair  description  of  effort,  then,  to 
say  that  it  is  the  process  by  which  an  idea  establishes 
itself  which  has  to  call  for  numerous  reinforcements. 
On  the  whole,  and  generally  speaking,  the  temptation 
is  given  ;  it  is  intense  in  its  character,  and  because  it 
is  a  temptation  to  something  unworthy  it  is  partial 
and  narrow.  On  the  other  hand  the  right,  the  idea 
which  is  good,  has   to  conquer  by  going  through   a 

^  Cf.  James,  Text-book  of  Psychology ,  p.  430.  We  have  to  bear  in 
mind  that  the  mere  fact  of  an  action  being  initiated  by  ideas  does  not 
prove  its  reasonableness.     It  is  the  nature  of  ideas  which  matters. 

"^  Cf.  also  Sidgwick  in  Mind,  loc.  cit.,  where  he  enlarges  upon 
the  effects  of  self-deception. 


no  PSYCHOLOGY  OF  THE  MORAL  SELF  lect. 

process.  It  has  to  call  up  reinforcements  through  all 
the  various  complicated  relations  of  the  content  of 
the  self,  and  this  may  partly  explain  why  we  speak 
of  effort  when  we  do  right  and  of  yielding  when  we 
do  wrong.  It  is  difficult  to  reverse  the  application 
of  the  terms,  because  the  right  will  always  be 
connected  with  the  larger  purpose  ;  but  in  certain 
complicated  states  of  mind  something  like  it  may 
occur.  If,  e.g,^  a  lawful  and  intense  affection  (say 
filial  affection)  is  competing  with  an  attractive  and 
not  very  creditable  scheme  of  life  (say  some  ambition), 
then  there  may  be  present  the  peculiar  sense  of 
effort,  of  the  idea  reinforcing  itself  in  trying  to  do 
wrong,  and  a  sense  of  yielding  in  giving  way  to  the 
right  and  natural  affection/  (See  also  Sully's  Human 
Mind,  ii.  288.) 

Is  the  sense  of  Effort  necessary  to  Morality  ? — 
We  may  perhaps  say  that  the  form  of  effort  is  in 
some  degree  a  sine  qua  7ion,  because  the  wider 
purpose  in  asserting  itself  will  always  demand  a 
certain  "  reinforcement."  But  that  is  one  side  of 
the  truth  only,  and  morality  is  not  to  be  judged  by 
the  intensity  of  the  sense  of  effort.  The  will  is  real, 
and  realised,  in  habits  and  institutions  ;  and  the  sense 
of  self-affirmation  which  arises  from  the  agreement 
of  the  will  with  its  outer  and  realised  self,  is  one  of 
the  most  important  factors  in  the  guidance  of  the 
moral  will.  If  all  morality  were  effort,  we  should  be 
in  an  unhappy  state  where  there  was  no  realisation 
and  no  sense  of  affirmation  in  the  existing  social , 
world.  Those  people  who  think  it  their  duty  to  be 
always  in  a  state  of  moral  excitement,  fighting  against 

^  Of  course  there  is  a  still  wider  purpose  in  alliance  with  the  natural 
affection,  but  the  latter  may  be  the  most  prominent. 


IX  REASONABLE  ACTION  iii 

themselves  with  an  intense  and  arduous  moral  effort, 
are  probably  wrong.  If  not,  the  formation  of  good 
habits  would  be  sheer  waste  ;  but  the  formation  of 
good  habits  is  an  important  factor  in  the  realisation 
of  the  wider  purposes.  It  is  rather  the  width  of  the 
effort  after  right,  and  its  bona  fides,  not  \hQ  feeling  of 
its  intensity,  which  is  the  essential  point  in  the  moral 
state. 

(ii.)  Finally,  we  have  to  say  a  few  words  on  the 
nature  and  necessity  of  moral  self-judgment. 

{a)  There  is  one  kind  of  moral  judgment  of 
which  the  predicate  is  a  positive  idea  of  a  course  of 
action,  and  the  subject  is  "  What  I  ought  to  do." 
Here  we  have  a  real  perception  or  inference.  It  is 
concrete,  it  applies  to  the  circumstances  of  the 
moment,  and  it  is  constructive ;  that  is,  it  depends 
on  successfully  understanding  how  what  is  actually 
given  may  be  made  to  conform  to  its  idea.  To 
suppose  that  the  moral  choice  is  always  between  two 
ready-made  courses  is  a  great  mistake  ;  we  are  like 
scientific  men  with  new  facts  before  them,  and  our 
duty  is  to  be  equal  to  the  situation.  TJiis  judgment  is 
essential  to  morality  and  is  the  very  process  of  morality. 

(/3)  A  second  kind  of  moral  judgment  is  one  of 
which  the  predicate  is  "  good "  or  "  bad,"  and  the 
subject  an  act  or  person.  "  A.  B.  is  good  (or  bad)." 
*'  That  action  was  good  (or  bad)."  The  very  words 
good  and  bad  are  an  embodiment  of  this  moral 
judgment,  and  show  that  it  is  used  ;  but  yet  we  have 
the  current  prohibitions,  "  Judge  not,"  "  Don't  impute 
motives."  We  are  urged  to  judge  the  act  and  not 
the  agent,  but  we  cannot  really  separate  the  act 
from  the  moral  agent.  What  we  probably  do  in 
commonplace  moral  judgment  is  to  refer  the  act   by 


112  PSYCHOLOGY  OF  THE  MORAL  SELF  lect. 

its  common  accepted  name  to  a  sort  of  fictitious 
unreal  agent';  we  assume  a  sort  of  normal,  average 
person,  and  so  get  a  working  morality.  "  Stealing  is 
wrong,"  i.e.  normally,  for  a  normal  agent.  In  such  a 
judgment  we  do  not  take  into  account  the  individual 
circumstances  of  any  actual  moral  case ;  we  are 
judging  abstractly,  hypothetically,  assigning  the  act 
to  an  assumed  agent. 

To  get  deeper  we  must  judge  the  motive,  and  the 
motive  may  be  described  as  that  part  of  the  action 
which  attracted  the  agent  at  the  price  of  the  means 
and  foreseen  consequences.  We  must  not  leave  out 
these,  but  must  apply  to  the  agent  the  fact  that  the 
motive  was  able  to  attract  him  at  the  price  of  its 
consequences  ;  and  an  object  attractive  in  this  way 
is  an  embodiment  of  character.  If  we  knew  it  fully 
— which  we  never  could — we  could  judge  categorically 
of  the  character  displayed  in  the  act.  As  it  is,  we 
judge  hypothetically  of  the  motive  ;  we  say,  "  If  it 
was  as  it  seems  to  be,  then  it  was  a  bad  action,"  but 
we  do  not  profess  to  know  what  is  the  state  of  the 
individual  character. 

Also,  we  do  pass  moral  judgments  on  people. 
We  class  them  as  good  or  bad  with  a  pretence  of 
categorical  judgment,  i.e.  judgment  without  an  "  ifr 
This  is  really  a  judgment  relative  to  our  current 
standpoint,  and  seems  to  be  based  on  a  general 
impression  of  the  limits  of  a  man's  character  as 
compared  with  his  opportunities.  If  such  a  judg- 
ment were  complete,  and  based  on  the  knowledge  it 
really  requires,  it  would  be  categorical  ;  but  then  it 
would  pass  beyond  mere  morality.  All  we  can  do 
is  to  try  roughly  to  understand  how  much  a  man 
had  given  to  him,  and  what  he  did  with  it ;  where 


IX  REASONABLE  ACTION  113 

he  started,  and  how  far  he  got.  Then  we  have  to 
make  allowances  for  what  we  don't  know,  and  we 
find  ultimately  that  we  cannot  pass  any  categorical 
judgment  at  all  ;  we  do  not  know  the  conditions 
with  sufficient  accuracy  to  say  he  was  "  good " 
or  "  bad." 

All  general  moral  judgment,  then,  except  the 
judgment  on  things  to  be  done,  is  hypothetical,  and 
useful  only  as  a  sort  of  first  approximation  to  actual 
circumstances.  We  do  not  venture  to  say  that 
every  one  who  steals  is  a  bad  man  ;  but  we  do  say 
that  there  are  strong  presumptions  against  him,  and 
it  is  useful  to  have  a  current  sense  or  judgment  of 
the  kind,  to  keep  us  straight.  But  the  only  really 
categorical,  concrete,  moral  judgment  is  that  which 
determines  what  the  course  of  action  is,  by  adopting 
which  we  can  be  equal  to  the  occasion  ;  and  the 
predicate  of  this  judgment  is  a  course  of  action,  and 
not  a  moral  term  of  approval  or  reproach. 

Finally,  that  which  constitutes  the  measure  of 
morality  seems  to  be  the  actual  identification  of  the 
private  self  with  the  universal  self,  the  actual  sur- 
render of  the  will  to  the  greater  will  of  the  system 
to  which  we  belong.  We  cannot  judge  by  the  feeling 
of  being  good  or  bad  ;  that  is  absolutely  deceptive. 
The  best  people  often  have  a  feeling  of  being  bad, 
and  Emerson  writes  of  a  lady  who  told  him  that 
"  the  sense  of  being  perfectly  dressed  affects  the 
mind  with  an  inward  comfort  which  religion  is 
unable  to  bestow."  Effort  and  judgment,  again, 
though  implied  in  morality,  are  not  measures  of  it  ; 
they  arc  only  indispensable  conditions. 


LECTURE    X 

BODY    AND    SOUL 

I.  The  general  problem  of  the  relation  between  Body 
and  Soul  has  been  an  interesting  case  of  progressive 
analysis.  It  begins  with  the  simple  view  of  the 
phenomena  which  precludes  mechanical  explanation, 
and  may  be  called  the  magical  view  ;  and  then  by 
an  analysis,  which  seems  very  modest,  we  are  driven 
back  into  explaining  part  after  part  of  this  series  of 
phenomena  into  mechanical  action,  or  some  sort  of 
regular  intelligible  action.  And  when  finally  the 
magical  element  has  been  driven  back  into  a  dark 
corner,  we  ask  ourselves  whether  the  spiritual  or 
profound  principle  for  which  we  are  searching,  the 
larger  view  of  phenomena,  may  not  really  apply  to 
the  whole  of  them  taken  as  a  system,  and  not,  by 
preference,  to  the  unexplained  or  mysterious  element. 
The  suggestion  arises  that  mystery  is  not  essential  to 
a  spiritual  view  of  things,  and  that  what  is  more  or 
higher  is  so  from  some  kind  of  value  attaching  to  its 
arrangement  in  a  system. 

We  will  begin  our  study  of  the  problem  by  a 
general  sketch  of  the  stages  we  have  personally  gone 
through  in  our  education  {not  of  the  history  of 
philosophy).      Probably  most  of  us  have  at  one  time 


LECT.  X  BODY  AND  SOUL  115 

thought  that  mind  is  a  tiling,  which  thinks  and  seems 
to  move  the  body — with  which  it  is  co-extensive — 
without  any  assignable  mechanism.  As  we  begin  to 
be  educated  we  find  out,  e.g.,  that  the  mind  is  not 
present  at  the  tips  of  the  fingers  where  we  seem  to 
feel  ;  that  the  actual  skin  and  flesh  is  not  sensitive, 
but  only  the  nerve,  upon  pressure  of  which  feeling 
follows.  A  further  stage  of  the  same  discovery  is 
when  we  learn  that  if  a  nerve  is  cut  anywhere 
between  finger  and  brain  there  will  not  be  any 
sensation  in  the  finger  ;  so  that  really  the  feeling  at 
the  finger  tips  is,  to  a  certain  extent,  not  a  mistake, 
but  an  illusion.  It  is  analogous,  as  Lotze  says, 
to  the  sort  of  effect  we  may  get  by  feeling  a 
thing  with  a  walking-stick  ;  we  seem  to  feel  at  the 
other  end  of  the  stick  that  it  is  smooth,  or  soft,  or 
gritty.  Aristotle  was  aware  of  this,  though  he  did 
not  know  that  the  nerves  were  the  means  of  sensation ; 
he  knew  that  we  could  feel  through  a  film  round  the 
flesh  very  much  as  if  the  sensitive  part  itself  was 
touched. 

Then  we  must  all  remember  when  we  found  out 
— what  Mill  points  out — that  the  will  is  not  magical, 
that,  e.g.,  a  numbed  arm  will  not  move.  That  is,  the 
sequence  of  movement  upon  will  is  not  infallible,  is 
not  magical,  but  depends  upon  a  certain  mechanism 
which  may  go  wrong  ;  we  do  not  know  whether  it 
will  really  act  except  by  trying.  Experience  of  this 
kind,  however  we  come  by  it,  whether  by  observation, 
or  reading,  or  hearsay,  makes  us  withdraw  the 
magical  notion  of  the  will  from  the  outlying  parts  of 
the  body  ;  until,  in  popular  culture,  we  get  a  sort  of 
idea  of  the  soul  as  a  little  creature  sitting  in  the 
brain.      As  Lotze  suggests,  we  think  of  it  as   like  a 


Ii6  PSYCHOLOGY  OF  THE  MORAL  SELF  lect. 

player  on  a  keyed  instrument  receiving  telephonic 
messages  from  the  nerves  into  the  central  organs  of 
the  brain,  and  sending  down  motor  messages  in 
return.  This  is  the  modern  development  of  Descartes's 
idea  that  the  soul  resides  in  the  pineal  gland,  the 
only  portion  of  the  brain  that  happens  not  to  be 
doubled. 

This  idea  of  Lotze's,  then,  is  really  the  up-to- 
date  form  of  the  commonplace  distinction  of  Soul 
and  Body  as  two  things,  as  we  shape  it  by  our 
popular  culture  and  knowledge  of  physiology. 
Though  magic  has  given  way  to  the  idea  of 
mechanism  so  far  as  the  body  is  concerned,  still  in 
the  great  popular  view  the  soul  remains  as  ^  magical 
source  of  action,  a  substance  or  thing  which  is  not 
the  body,  and  which  acts  upon  the  body.  We  find 
a  similar  view  in  the  less  profound  parts  of  Plato, 
those  parts  where  he  is  inclined  to  regard  the  soul 
as  a  separate  creature,  acting  upon  the  body  and  sur- 
viving it  (though  he  probably  did  not  even  know  that 
the  work  of  thought  goes  on  by  means  of  the  brain). 

We  may  indicate  what  is  technically  important 
in  such  a  view  as  follows,  using  Greek  letters  to 
denote  states  of  consciousness,  or  psychological 
events,  and  English  letters  to  denote  states  of  body, 
or  physical  and  material  events.  According  to  it 
we  get  a  series,  say  of  action  following  upon  an 
incoming  stimulus,  like  A,  yS,  C  ;  in  which  A  is  the 
shock  transmitted  by  a  mechanical  state  of  the  body, 
y8  the  pure  soul  state  witJiout  any  state  of  the  body 
corresponding  to  it,  and  C  the  state  of  the  body 
involved  in  the  motor  impulse  sent  out. 

Then  analysis  pushes  further  to  a  point  hardly 
reached  until  we  study  psychology.      The  change  of 


X  BODY  AND  SOUL  117 

bodily  states  from  A  to  C  is  alleged  to  be  con- 
tinuous, and  though  we  can  neither  prove  nor 
disprove  it,  there  is  no  reason  to  doubt  that  it  is 
so.  So  we  get  the  series  A,  B,  C,  where  A  is  the 
incoming  shock,  B  the  state  of  the  central  organs, 
and  C  the  motor  impulse.  But  if  A  and  B  are 
enough  to  account  for  C,  what  need  is  there  for 
the  soul  ?  Even  though  we  grant  that  A,  B,  C  is 
accompanied  by  a,  /3,  7,  that  is  quite  different  from 
saying  that  the  true  course  of  sequence  is  A  yS  C. 

Lotze  is  very  interesting  on  this  point,  just 
because  he  is  making  the  transition  himself.  He 
cannot  quite  abandon  the  idea  of  a  soul-thing,  acting 
out  of  itself,  but  he  is  prepared  to  admit  that  action 
of  the  soul  is  excited  by  some  change  in  the  bodily 
state.  When  we  have  got  as  far  as  this,  when  we 
have  a  continuous  system  of  bodily  changes  without 
any  interruption  from  psychical  changes,  we  have 
got  rid  of  the  magical  in  principle.  The  soul  ceases 
to  be  a  series  of  inexplicable  reactions,  and  we  come 
back  to  the  conception  of  Plato  and  Aristotle  at 
their  best — the  conception  that  the  spiritual  view 
is  that  which  regards  experience  as  a  mechanically 
intelligible  whole. 

2.  (i.)  Tilings  interacting.  —  Taking  this  more  in 
detail,  we  get  first  the  possible  view  of  Body  and 
Soul  as  two  things  interacting  ;  the  view  we  have 
been  describing.  It  is  the  view  which  we  naturally 
take  when  we  first  begin  to  reflect,  and  seem  to  feel 
the  soul  as  a  state  of  mind  which  moves  the  body  ; 
and  we  find  it  in  the  common  language  even  of 
philosophers.  In  James's  Text-book  (p.  5)  he  says 
that  all  mental  states  are  followed  by  bodily  activity 


ii8  PSYCHOLOGY  OF  THE  MORAL  SELF  lect. 

of  some  sort  ;  and  Granger  in  his  Psychology  (p.  15) 
insists  that  a  state  of  mind  may  be  excited  by  a 
state  of  body.  If  we  take  this  view  seriously,  we 
get — as  we  have  seen — the  sequence  A,  /S,  C,  in 
which  A  is  physical,  /3  psychical,  C  physical  ;  and 
many  difficult  questions  arise,  such  as  whether  the 
seat  of  the  soul  in  the  body  is  apart  from  the 
nervous  system,  or  whether  "  the  soul "  can  exercise 
mechanical  force,  or  how  it  affects  the  nervous 
centres.  Lotze  discusses  these  questions,  and 
Bradley  considers  them  fair  questions  for  discussion. 
Hegel,  on  the  other  hand,  rejects  them  as  meaning- 
less ;  for  him  the  soul  cannot  be  thus  separated  from 
the  body  and  considered  as  acting  upon  it. 

We  may  at  any  rate  get  rid  of  the  elementary 
difficulty  by  rejecting  the  formula  A,  y5,  C.  No 
psychologist  will  seriously  maintain  it,  for  it  ex- 
presses the  confusion  of  psychological  and  physio- 
logical consequence.  In  other  words,  it  expresses 
the  view  that  the  soul  is  separated  from  the  body, 
and  is  acting  upon  it  from  the  outside. 

Our  formula,  then,  must  be  in  one  sense  or 
another  the  two  series  running  side  by  side,  A,  B,  C, 
ttj  y3)  7  ;  ^^^d  the  question  before  us  is,  how  to 
interpret  them. 

(ii.)  Bare  Concomitance. — The  first  and  simplest 
explanation  of,  or  way  of  looking  at,  the  two  series, 
is  that  of  bare  concomitance  ;  the  suggestion,  that 
is,  that  they  accompany  each  other,  but  that  we  can 
say  no  more  about  their  relation  ;  that  they  run  on 
side  by  side,  neither  affecting  the  other.  The  view 
is  an  interesting  one,  but  not  really  an  explanation 
at  all  ;  it  simply  says  that  we  must  treat  the  two 
series  as  disconnected,  because  we  do  not  know  how 


X  BODY  AND  SOUL  119 

to  connect  them.  And  in  psychology  no  doubt  we 
are  obliged  to  treat  the  mental  series  as  on  the 
whole  complete  in  itself;  we  must  try  to  show  that 
in  some  sense  it  hangs  together,  without  being  ex- 
plained by  states  of  brain,  and  so  on. 

If  we  do  try  for  an  explanation  we  are  forced  to 
one  of  two  extremes.  We  must  either  say  that 
Soul  and  Body  are  really  independent,  and  Will  a 
sort  of  junction  between  them,  so  giving  up  all 
chance  of  explanation  ;  or  we  must  say  that  they 
are  aspects  or  manifestations  of  the  same  underlying 
unity.  But  an  explanation  that  is  not  more  definite 
than  this  is  really  no  explanation  at  all ;  it  is  simply 
a  rule  of  method  that  for  the  present  we  are  unable 
to  say  anything  about  the  connection,  and  that  we 
must  therefore  treat  each  series  as  if  it  were  dis- 
connected. 

(iii.)  But  it  is  difficult  to  repose  in  an  attitude  like 
that.  Man  naturally  presses  on  to  some  explanation, 
and  so  we  get  the  next  theory,  the  theory  that  the 
soul  is  an  effect  and  not  a  cause.  The  results  of 
such  a  theory  are  somewhat  repellent,  but  it  is 
becoming  dominant,  and  must  be  faced.  Briefly 
stated  it  is,  that  the  course  of  mental  events  has  no 
causative  influence  of  its  own  at  all,  but  is  a  series  of 
separate  effects  produced  by  the  accompanying  physical 
events. 

If  cither  series  is  to  be  the  effect  of  the  other  it 
seems  clear  it  must  be  the  mental  scries,  if  only 
because  the  bodily  series  seems  to  be  continuous 
while  the  mental  series  does  not.  Then,  taking  this 
view  of  consciousness  as  a  mere  accompaniment  of 
bodily  events,  let  us  look  again  at  our  series  A,  B,  C, 
a,  /3,  7.      A,  a  state  of  the  body,  is  now  the  cause  of 


I20  PSYCHOLOGY  OF  THE  MORAL  SELF  lect. 

B,  another  state  of  the  body,  and  also  of  a,  its 
accompanying  mental  event  ;  B  again  is  the  cause 
of  C,  and  of  fi.  On  the  other  hand,  a  is  not  the 
cause  of  ^,  and  has  no  connection  with  it  ;  yS  is  not 
the  cause  of  7,  and  much  less  is  a  the  cause  of  A, 
or  j3  in  any  sense  the  cause  of  B.  The  series  of 
consciousness  has  no  effect  on  the  bodily  series. 

This  is  the  view  with  v\^hich  modern  psychology 
is  coquetting,  and  for  many  reasons  it  is  difficult  to 
take  another  ;  but  if  frankly  stated  and  worked  out 
it  carries  us  a  long  way.  For  instance,  in  this  view 
pleasure  and  pain,  considered  as  feelings,  would  have 
no  effect  whatever  on  actions  ;  they  could  not,  as 
part  of  the  mental  series.  Indeed,  as  a  somewhat 
rash  writer  has  amusingly  said,  it  would  appear  as 
if  the  whole  of  life  might  go  on  the  same  if  conscious- 
ness were  not  present,  the  determining  feature  being 
natural  selection.^  The  organism  would  be  a 
machine  which  would  produce  those  movements 
necessary  for  the  preservation  of  the  race,  and 
consciousness  would  make  no  difference.  A  clear 
instance  of  this  extreme  theory  is  Munsterberg's 
view  that,  except  in  certain  complicated  instances, 
my  idea  of  the  movement  I  am  about  to  make  is 
not  in  any  degree  a  cause  of  that  movement.  A 
certain  stimulus  calls  up  a  movement  because  natural 
selection  has  picked  it  out  as  desirable  ;  and  the 
idea  is  prior,  only  because  less  time  intervenes 
between  the  stimulus  and  the  idea  which  it  suggests, 
than  between  the  stimulus  and  that  perception  of 
the  movement  which  is  subsequent  to  its  being 
carried  out.  Thus  the  whole  conception  of  our 
previous    idea    of   the    movement    being    the    cause 

^  Fawcett,  Riddle  of  the  Universe. 


X  BODY  AND  SOUL  121 

would  be  an  illusion  ;  and  even  in  the  complicated 
cases  where  Miinsterberg  admits  a  certain  influence, 
it  is  only  the  bodily  side  of  the  idea  which  has  that 
influence. 

Of  course  this  view  rests  to  a  great  extent  on  the 
assumption  of  the  conservation  of  energy,  or  the 
persistence  of  force,  the  assumption  on  which  we 
conduct  physical  science  in  the  present  day.  In  the 
physical  series.  A,  B,  C,  the  circuit  of  mechanical 
motion  is  complete,  and  there  seems  to  be  no  room 
for  any  generation  of  movement  outside  it,  or  any 
loss  inside.  Nothing  but  motion,  according  to  the 
ordinary  idea,  can  be  the  equivalent  of  energy  ;  and 
the  assumption  is  that  the  energy  is  all  accounted 
for  by  this  continuous  cycle  of  movements,  the 
one  of  which  excites  the  other  in  a  never-ending 
series. 

The  very  clearness  of  this  view  leads  to  certain 
difficulties.^  The  series  a,  yS,  7,  are  represented  as  (i.) 
effects,  or  at  least  events,  having  no  causes  ;  for  the 
mechanical  cause  A  is  on  this  hypothesis  fully 
accounted  for  in  the  mechanical  effect  B,  so  that  no 
causal  action  remains  to  account  for  a  and  /3  ;  and 
(ii.)  causes,  or  at  least  events,  without  effects.  This 
is  obvious  from  the  statement,  and  both  are  difficult 
to  believe. 

And  finally  there  is  one  more  point,  upon  which 
we  would  not  lay  too  much  stress.  Of  course 
the  bodily  states,  as  well  as  the  mental  states,  are 
all  of  them  objects  of  experience,  of  perceiving  ;  and 
more  particularly  our  whole  idea  of  nature  as  a 
system  of  mechanical  causes  is  only  an  abstraction 
out   of  the  whole  of  our   knowledge.      In  short,  we 

^   Sec  Bradley,  Appearance  and  Reality,  p.  J27. 


^^esE    L'B^^^ 


122  PSYCHOLOGY  OF  THE  MORAL  SELF  lect. 

have  to  take  into  consideration  the  effects  of  sub- 
jective idealism.  But  this  argument  does  not  help 
us  in  detail,  for  this  reason.  If  we  have  once  under- 
taken the  task  of  classifying  our  experience,  and 
arranging  the  parts  in  a  reasonable  system  according 
to  their  nature,  we  have  no  right  at  every  moment 
to  say,  "  After  all  it  is  only  my  own  experience,  only 
an  ideal  construction."  Such  an  attitude  does  not 
enable  us  to  change  the  nature  of  the  facts  from 
what  they  present  themselves  as  being  in  our  ex- 
perience ;  it  only  prevents  us  in  general  from  think- 
ing that  the  mechanical  system  of  nature  {e.g.  as  a 
system  of  atoms)  is  an  ultimate  fact. 

(iv.)  Another  view  which  may  be  suggested  is 
that  which  speaks  of  the  soul  as  an  ideal  aspect  of  the 
body,  or  the  ideality  of  the  body ;  and  this  seems  to 
contain  an  attempt  in  the  right  direction.  The  only 
way  of  avoiding  the  difficulty  of  making  conscious- 
ness entirely  an  effect,  is  to  refuse  to  make  the 
abstraction  between  the  bodily  and  the  mental  series. 
In  philosophy  it  is  generally  an  abstraction  of  some 
kind  that  leads  us  to  ultimate  difficulties ;  we 
separate  two  things,  set  them  over  against  each 
other,  and  then  try  to  reduce  each  of  them  to  the 
other,  and  this  is  perhaps  what  we  have  been  trying 
to  do  here.  The  mental  fact  does  not  exist  by 
itself,  and  it  is  not  proved  that  it  can  ;  and  though 
from  the  point  of  view  of  the  onlooker  bodily  facts 
do  seem  to  exist  without  mental  facts,  yet  the  law 
of  causation  forbids  us  to  admit  that  they  are  the 
same  when  they  exist  separately  as  when  accom- 
panied by  mental  facts.  This  cuts  both  ways.  It 
may  be  said  to  show  that  mind  depends  upon  the 
existence  of  body,  and  so  far  as  our  experience  goes, 


X  BODY  AND  SOUL  123 

and  under  present  conditions,  it  does  seem  to  show 
something  of  the  sort.  But  on  the  other  hand  it 
shows  that  we  need  not  raise  the  question  whether 
pure  thought,  or  pure  feehng,  can  work  upon  the 
body,  for  within  our  experience  there  is  no  pure 
thought  or  pure  feehng — i.c.  no  thought  or  feehng 
which  is  devoid  of  a  physical  accompaniment. 
Mental  effect  is  both  bodily  and  mental,  and  the 
moment  we  split  it  up  into  a  bodily  and  mental 
series — except  for  the  convenience  of  our  science — 
we  get  away  from  the  facts.  Thus  it  is  quite 
possible  that  an  idea,  or  a  feeling  of  pleasantness, 
may  cause  a  movement  of  the  body  through  its 
corresponding  bodily  state,  and  then  theorists  of  the 
the  one  side  or  the  other  may  say,  "  But  the  bodily 
state  is  only  an  accident  of  the  mental  event,"  or 
"  the  mental  is  only  an  accident  of  the  bodily  event." 
To  this  we  reply  :  "  How  do  you  know  this  }  "  All 
that  we  know  is  that  the  thing  is  given  as  one  with 
two  sides,  and  there  is  no  reason  to  make  difficulties 
by  an  abstraction  which  does  not  heed  the  facts. 
We  may  find  another  instance  of  the  factitious 
difficulty  in  the  conceptions  of  contiguity  and 
similarity,  when  the  question  is  asked  whether  con- 
tiguity is  a  bodily  or  mental  principle.  Or,  again, 
in  the  question  whether  a  theory  of  pleasure  and  pain 
deals  with  a  bodily  or  mental  principle.  We  must 
refuse  to  make  the  abstraction,  and  then  the  question 
falls  to  the  ground.  No  doubt  the  bad  form  of  the 
doctrine  of  association  has  been  largely  generated 
by  the  attempt  to  make  it  merely  a  bodily  principle  ; 
the  object  being  to  enable  us  to  regard  the  mind  as 
something  like  a  rack  full  of  photographs,  out  of 
which   one  is  taken  when  a  particular   image   recurs. 


124  PSVCHOLOGY  OF  THE  MORAL  SELF  lect. 

And  it  is  convenient  to  say  with  James  and  others 
that  the  paths  of  association  are  the  paths  of  the 
brain,  as  possibly  they  are.  But  after  all  the 
machinery  is  unknown  to  us  ;  the  psychical  com- 
bination is  what  we  know,  and  we  must  simply 
examine  the  psychical  action  and  assume  that  the 
machinery  of  the  body  is  in  some  way  adapted  to 
carry  out  the  psychical  modes  of  combination. 

Then  it  is  natural  to  ask  what  is  added  by  the 
view  that  the  soul  is  the  ideality  of  the  body,  to  the 
view  which  simply  accepts  two  aspects,  two  con- 
current series  ?  The  answer  is,  that  it  calls  attention 
to  the  individual  organised  nature  of  the  soul.  When 
we  are  told  about  a  bodily  series  of  events  accom- 
panied by  a  mental  series,  we  tend  to  feel  as  if  the 
soul  had  been  broken  up  into  a  set  of  detached 
incidents,  without  combination.  We  have  to 
remember  that  after  all,  the  soul,  the  contents  of  the 
soul  as  we  know  it,  form  an  individual  system  full  of 
character  and  personality ;  that  it  is  quite  as 
characteristically  individual  and  belonging  to  itself  as 
the  body  is,  and  certainly  at  a  higher  level  ;  and  that 
while  its  constituent  elements  include  of  course  the 
qualities  of  the  body,  they  include  also  a  whole  world 
of  other  qualities  and  relations.  Thus  we  get  quite 
a  different  estimate  of  the  importance  of  the  soul  if 
we  regard  it  from  this  point  of  view,  from  what  we 
do  if  we  allow  ourselves  to  regard  it  as  simply  a  set 
of  events  accompanying  certain  changes  of  the  body. 
The  question  of  value  is  really  distinct  from  that  of 
the  nature  of  the  causal  connection  between  mind  and 
body  ;  and  it  is  difficult  to  see  why  some  of  our 
best  writers  are  so  sensitive  to  admitting  that,  from 
a  historical  standpoint,  the  soul  or  mind  is  conditioned 


X  BODY  AND  SOUL  125 

by  the  causation  or  machinery  of  the  sequence  of 
bodily  states.  The  important  point  is,  what  the 
thing  actually  is  ;  i.e.  what  is  its  nature,  and  in  what 
does  its  organisation  consist.  We  are  quite  accus- 
tomed to  find  that  the  things  we  value  most  have 
been  able  to  develop  through  a  system  of  mechanical 
causation. 

The  only  theoretical  difficulty  that  threatens  the 
spiritual  character  of  our  world  arises  when  we 
separate  the  two  elements,  body  and  soul,  and  then 
try  to  reduce  either  of  the  unrealities  to  the  other. 
If  we  think  that  because  the  soul  is  conditional  upon 
the  processes  of  a  bodily  organism,  therefore  it  is 
nothing  more  than  the  processes  of  bodily  organisa- 
tion, then  we  have  made  for  ourselves  an  unnecessary 
and  serious  difficulty.  In  a  work  of  art  we  know 
that  it  is  mechanically  conditioned  in  every  part,  but 
we  do  not  think  that  makes  any  difference  to  its 
value  ;  in  other  words,  we  suppose  that  the  causes 
which  gave  it  value  are  capable  of  expressing  them- 
selves through  the  mechanical  processes  which  produce 
the  work.  And  in  the  same  way  we  have  to  suppose, 
not  that  the  spiritual  element  begins  at  a  given  point 
in  nature,  but  that  the  whole  process  of  nature  is 
capable  of  being  instrumental  to  the  development  of 
that  which  is  of  spiritual  value. 

(v.)  There  are  two  great  subjects  which  we  shall  be 
expected  to  mention,  but  on  which  there  is  little  to 
say  in  this  connection.  The  first,  the  question  of 
Free-will,  does  not  really  arise  at  all.  No  one  main- 
tains that  we  ourselves  made  our  positive  qualities. 
Our  language,  our  ancestors,  our  religion,  our  leading 
ideas,  the  country  we  live  in,  arc  given  to  us,  not 
made  by  us.      But   the   machinery    by    which    life    is 


126  PSYCHOLOGY  OF  THE  MORAL  SELF  lect. 

carried  on  does  not  affect  our  free-will  at  all,  except 
of  course  in  so  far  as  it  limits  or  determines  our 
power  of  being  influenced  by  similar  experience  to 
other  people's.  In  the  sense  that  we  all  have 
positive  advantages  and  disadvantages,  for  which  we 
cannot  account,  as  compared  with  other  people,  no 
doubt  our  relative  freedom  and  capacity  is  determined. 
But  admitting  that  each  of  us  is  a  positive  system, 
with  certain  definite  qualities  which  he  did  not  himself 
create,  then  the  mere  mode  in  which  the  machinery 
of  the  organic  system  determines  those  positive 
qualities  is  of  no  possible  importance,  and  cannot 
affect  any  serious  question.  Mere  absence  of  reason- 
able determination  would  only  mean  that  we  could 
not  account  for  anything,  that  it  was  all  simply 
mysterious  and  magical. 

(vi.)  The  second  question,  that  of  the  existence  of 
disembodied  souls,  is  a  mere  question  of  fact.  We 
have  no  ground  to  suppose  that  a  disembodied  con- 
dition of  the  soul  would  be  any  gain  in  spirituality  ; 
prima  facie  it  might  just  as  well  be  a  loss.  Speaking 
generally,  we  need  very  much  to  get  a  thorough  grasp 
of  the  conception  that  the  spiritual  is  always  the 
more,  and  not  the  less  ;  to  make  an  abstraction  by 
cutting  off  some  element  of  our  world  is  not  advan- 
cing to  what  is  more  spiritual,  but  is  probably  retreating 
to  what  is  less  spiritual.  Of  course  it  is  quite  true 
that  a  higher  totality  has  extraordinary  capacities 
for  transfiguring  and  transforming  another  element 
until  we  may  not  recognise  it  again.  This  is  always 
the  way  in  works  of  art;  we  can  hardly  understand 
how  little  details  which  seem  to  have  no  value  or 
life  when  seen  alone,  become  so  unutterably  full  of 
meaning  when   we   see    them    in    their   place.       But 


X  BODY  AND  SOUL  127 

though  they  seem  changed,  and  are  no  longer  trivial, 
the  principle  remains  that  the  spiritual  view,  or  the 
spiritual  being,  is  always  that  which  has  more  in  it, 
and  never  that  which  has  less  ;  it  docs  not  omit,  it 
includes  and  transforms.  The  spiritual  view  of  life, 
for  instance,  does  not  omit  the  affections,  but  trans- 
forms them  ;  it  takes  them  up  into  the  whole  of  life. 

To  whatever  tenuity,  then,  we  may  reduce  our 
matter^  the  partial,  or  narrow,  or  abstract  view  of 
what  is  best  in  life,  will  always  be  the  material  and 
not  the  spiritual  view.  Experience,  indeed,  rather 
suggests  that  what  we  understand  by  the  spiritual 
could  not  exist  except  by  some  sort  of  contrast,  such 
as  we  have  in  the  material  ;  it  always  seems  to  reveal 
itself  through  symbols,  or  in  some  mode  of  appear- 
ance which  rather  points  to  it  than  actually  is  it,  and 
in  the  attempt  to  dispense  with  the  material  world 
there  is  great  risk  of  turning  the  spiritual  into  the 
material.  This  of  course  is  what  every  spiritualist 
or  ghost-seer  does :  he  finds  his  spirit  creature  in 
a  very  feeble  and  attenuated  sort  of  bodily  existence. 

In  completing  the  science  of  the  realised  moral 
self,  what  Hegel  has  called  the  Science  of  Objective 
Mind  ^ — mind,  that  is,  as  incorporated  in  law, 
morality,  and  the  ways  of  social  and  political  living — 
we  should  proceed  by  taking  up  from  Lecture  IX. 
the  conception  of  a  purpose  or  action  having  the 
character  of  reasonableness.  This  character  of 
reasonableness  we  should  analyse  and  expand,  until 
we  had  exhibited  the  moral  self  as  a  content  at  once 
real  and  rational,  affirmed  by  the  will,  which  finds  in 
it  the  true    self,   or    satisfactory    life.      But    such    an 

^  See  Wallace's  translation  of  Hegel's  Philosophy  of  Mi n J :  Dyde's 
translation  of  Hegel's  Philosophy  of  Rij^hf. 


128  PSYCHOLOGY  OF  THE  MORAL  SELF         lect.  x 

investigation,  though  it  would  be  dealing  with  the 
true  and  essential  nature  of  mind  in  a  far  higher 
degree  than  inquiries,  e.g.,  as  to  the  relation  of  body 
and  soul,  would  go  beyond  the  limits  which  our 
definition  in  Lecture  I.  assigned  to  Psychological 
Science.  We  should  be  dealing  with  the  significance 
of  psychical  occurrences  rather  than  with  their  laws 
and  causes.  And  we  therefore  end  at  this  point, 
remembering  that  our  work  has  only  been  an  intro- 
duction to  the  Science  of  Mind  in  the  largest  and 
truest  sense. 


BIBLIOGRAPHY 

All  students  should  master  Mr.  Ward's  article  in  E?tcydo- 
pcedia  Brita7i7iica  (Ninth  ed.  vol.  xx.),  "Psychology."  The 
number  can  be  obtained  separatelyfor  7s.  6d.  Mr.  Ward's  articles 
in  Mijid  (N.S.,  5  and  7),  and  Mr.  Bradley's  on  "  Conscious- 
ness and  Experience"  (in  Mind^  N.S.,  6),  should  also  be  studied, 
together  with  the  chapter  on  Association  of  Ideas  in  Mr. 
Bradley's  Pri?iciples  of  Logic.  In  lieu  of,  or  in  addition  to,  the 
above,  students  may  read  Mr.  Sully's  Human  Mind  (2  vols.), 
Mr.  Stout's  Analytic  Psychology  (2  vols.),  Prof.  Wm.  James'  or 
Prof.  Dewey's  Text-books  of  Psychology.^  or  Prof.  Hoffding's 
Outlines  of  Psychology.  It  is  strongly  urged  that  the  student 
should,  if  possible,  become  possessed  of  one  of  these  works — by 
preference  that  of  Mr.  Ward — and  not  merely  borrow  it  from  a 
library.  The  book  should  then  be  thoroughly  studied,  and  any 
further  reading  should  be  undertaken  with  a  view  to  points 
which  may  have  proved  interesting  or  difficult  in  this  study. 
Miinsterberg's  Die  Willenshandlung  (only  163  pp.)  will  be 
found  striking  and  suggestive. 


QUESTIONS 

1.  In  what  sense  is  it  true  that  Psychology  treats  of  all  that 

is  in  the  Soul  ? 

2.  State  and  explain  Aristotle's  definition  of  "  Psyche." 

3.  What  is  meant  by  "atomism"  in  Psychology? 

4.  Have  we  experience  of  a  simple  sensation  ? 

5.  Criticise  the  term  Association  in  its  psychological  usage. 

6.  What  is  strictly  the  meaning  of  Consciousness  ? 

7.  Explain  the  nature  of  Apperception. 

8.  What  difficulty  is  sometimes  held  to  attach  to  Association 

by  Similarity  ?     Explain  by  means  of  an  example. 

9.  What  is  involved  in  "  Self-assertion  "  ? 

10.  What   are   the   principal   elements    in   the    conception   of 

personal  identity  ? 

11.  In   what   principal   senses    is  the   term   Feeling  used    by 

Psychologists  ? 

12.  Discuss  the  view   that  pleasure   and  pain   can   never   be 

objects  for  consciousness. 

13.  What  is  meant  by  a  faculty?     Would  it  be  correct  to  call 

Attention  a  faculty  ? 

14.  Discuss  the  view  that  pleasure  is  the  sole  motive  of  action, 

explaining  how  such  an  idea  arises. 

15.  Illustrate  the  connection  of  Will  and   Intelligence  in  the 

developed  moral  self. 

16.  Compare    the    conceptions    of    "Altruism"     and     "Self- 

sacrifice." 


132  PSYCHOLOGY  OF  THE  MORAL  SELF 

17.  What  is  the  apparent  contradiction  in  the  idea  of  "  reason- 

able action  "  ? 

18.  Discuss  the  connection  and  relative  importance  of  moral 

purpose  and  moral  judgment. 

19.  What  views   of  the   relation   of  body   and   soul   may  we 

venture  to  set  aside  as  erroneous  ? 

20.  In  what  senses  could  Free-will  be  at  stake  in  the  problem 

of  Body  and  Soul  ? 


THE    END 


Printed  by  R.  &  R.  Clark,  Limited,  Edinburgh. 


111- 
BY  THE  SAME  AUTHOR. 


f. 


-il' 


THE  ESSENTIALS  OF  LOGIC.  Being  Ten  Lectures  on 
Judgment  and  Inference.  By  BERNARD  BOSANQUET, 
formerly  Fellow  of  University  College,  Oxford.  Crown  8vo. 
3s.  net. 

TIMES. — "  Mr.  Bosanquet's  treatment  of  his  subject  is  eminently 
stimulating  and  instructive." 

ATHENALUM. — "  In  a  manual  intended  for  students  and  even  for 
beginners  in  a  science,  or  a  particular  view  of  a  science,  which  is  not  only 
extremely  dry,  but  also  of  a  very  abstruse  character,  lucidity,  as  far  as 
the  subject  admits  of  it,  is  the  first  of  virtues,  and  Mr.  Bosanquet 
exhibits  it  in  a  high  degree. " 

ASPECTS  OF  THE  SOCIAL  PROBLEM.  By  Various 
Writers.  Edited  by  Bernard  Bosanquet.  Crown  8vo. 
2s.  6d.  net.  ^ 

TIMES. — "These  very  interesting  essays  .  .  .  cover  a  wide  field  of 
observation  and  reflection." 

ATHENMUM.—''  A  meritorious  production." 
DAILY  NEWS. — "  One  of  the  most  important  works  on  the  social 
problem  which  we  have  had  since  the  appearance  of  the  Fabian  Essays." 


By  Mrs.  BERNARD  BOSANQUET. 

RICH    AND     POOR.      By    Mrs.    Bernard     Bosanquet. 
Crown  8vo.     3s.  6d.  net. 

SCOTSMAN.— "ThexQ  could  hardly  be  a  better  introduction  to 
work  among  the  poor  than  Mrs.  Bernard  Bosanquet's  little  book  on 
'Rich  and  Poor.'  .  .  .  Cannot  fail  to  interest,  by  reason  of  the  vivid 
picture  which  it  gives  of  life  among  the  lowly,  and  the  broad  spirit  of 
practical  wisdom  which  pervades  it." 

DAILY  CHRONICLE.— ''This,  is  the  best  work  of  its  kind  we 
have  ever  met.  For  intimate  knowledge  of  the  life  of  the  poor,  for  sane 
and  sympathetic  handling  of  social  problems,  and  for  wise  hints  as  to 
services  that  the  leisured  may  render  to  the  unleisured,  it  is  altogether 
admirable.  .  .  .  We  venture  to  say  that  it  will  become  a  book  of  con- 
stant and  always  helpful  reference." 

MACMILLAN  AND  CO.,   Ltd.,   LONDON. 


BOOKS  ON  PSYCHOLOGY  AND  ETHICS. 


THE    PRINCIPLES   OF   PSYCHOLOGY.      By  William 

James,  Professor  of  Pyschology  in  Harvard  University.     2  Vols. 
8vo.     25s.  net. 

TIMES. — "An  important,  and  in  some  respects  a  novel  contribution  to  the  litera- 
ture of  philosophical  speculation.  The  novelty  consists  in  this,  that  Professor  James 
stands  equally  aloof  from  the  two  schools  which  have  divided  philosophy  between  them 
since  the  dawn  of  Speculation.  .  .  .  This  conception  of  a  psychological  propaedeutic 
for  the  metaphysic  of  the  future  is  undoubtedly  a  fruitful  one,  though  it  exposes  its 
author  to  the  combined  attack  of  the  two  schools  which  have  hitherto  divided  the  field 
of  philosophy  between  them." 

HANDBOOK  OF  PSYCHOLOGY.  Part  I.  Senses  and 
Intellect.  By  James  Mark  Baldwin,  M.  A.,  LL.D.,  Professor 
in  Princeton  College.    Second  Edition,  Revised.    8vo.    8s.  6d.  net. 

HANDBOOK  OF  PSYCHOLOGY.  Part  II.  Feeling 
AND  Will.  By  James  Mark  Baldwin,  M.A,,  Ph.D.,  Professor 
in  Princeton  College.     8vo.     8s.  6d.  net. 

NA  TURE. — "Well  arranged,  carefully  thought  out,  clearly  and  tersely  written, 
it  will  be  welcomed  in  this  country  as  it  has  been  welcomed  in  America.  That  it 
views  psychology  from  a  standpoint  somewhat  different  from  that  which  Mr.  Sully 
takes  up  in  his  Outlines  will  render  it  none  the  less  acceptable  to  English  students." 

ELEMENTS  OF  PSYCHOLOGY.  By  James  Mark  Bald- 
win, Professor  in  Princeton  College.     Crown  8vo.     7s.  6d. 

OUTLINES  OF  PSYCHOLOGY.  By  Harald  Hoffding, 
Professor  at  the  University  of  Copenhagen.  Translated  by  M.  E. 
Lowndes.     Crown  8vo.    6s. 

THE  ELEMENTS  OF  THE  PSYCHOLOGY  OF  COG- 
NITION. By  Rev.  Robert  Jardine,  D.Sc.  Third  Edition, 
Revised.     Crown  Svo.     6s.  6d. 

PSYCHOLOGY.  By  James  M'Cosh,  D.D.  Crown  Svo. 
Part  I.,  6s.  6d.     Part  II.,  6s.  6d. 

I.  THE  COGNITIVE  POWERS. 
II.  THE  MOTIVE  POWERS. 

THE  METHODS  OF  ETHICS.  By  Henry  Sidgwick, 
LL.D.,  D.C.L.,  Knightbridge  Professor  of  Moral  Philosophy  in 
the  University  of  Cambridge.     Fifth  Edition.     8vo.      14s. 

OUTLINES  OF  THE  HISTORY  OF  ETHICS,  for  English 
Readers.  By  Prof.  H.  Sidgwick.  Third  Edition,  Revised. 
Crown  Svo.     3s.  6d. 


MACMILLAN  AND  CO.,  Ltd.,   LONDON. 


BOOKS  ON  ETHICS  AND  METAPHYSICS. 

HANDBOOK  OF  MORAL  PHILOSOPHY.  By  Rev. 
Henry  Calderwood,  LL.D.,  Professor  of  Moral 
Philosophy  in  the  University  of  Edinburgh.  Fourteenth 
Edition,  largely  rewritten.      Crown  8vo.      6s. 

SHORT  STUDY  OF  ETHICS.  By  Charles  F. 
D'Arcy,  D.D.      Crown  8vo.      5s.  net. 

ELEMENTS  OF  METAPHYSICS.  By  Prof.  K. 
Deussen.      Crown  8vo.     6s. 

THE  THEORY  OF  SOCIOLOGY.  By  F.  H.  Giddings. 
Svo.      I2S.  6d.  net. 

THE  PREVAILING  TYPES  OF  PHILOSOPHY. 
CAN  THEY  LOGICALLY  REACH  REALITY  ?  By 
James  M'Cosh,  D.D.     Svo.     3s.  6d. 

PAIN,   PLEASURE,  AND  ESTHETICS.      By  H.  R. 

Marshall,  M.A.     Svo.     Ss.  6d.  net. 

ESTHETIC  PRINCIPLES.  By  H.  R.  Marshall, 
M.A.      Crown  Svo.      5s.  net. 

REVIEW  OF  THE  SYSTEM  OF  ETHICS  FOUNDED 
ON  THE  THEORY  OF  EVOLUTION.  By.  C.  M. 
Williams.     Extra  Crown  Svo.      12s.  net. 

HISTORY  OF  PHILOSOPHY.  By  Dr.  W.  Windel- 
BAND.  Translated  by  Prof.  J.  H.  TuFTS,  Ph.D.  Svo. 
2 IS.  net. 

MACMILLAN  AND  CO.,  Ltd.,  LONDON. 


BOOKS  ON  PHILOSOPHY. 

NEW  ESSAYS  CONCERNING   HUMAN  UNDERSTANDING. 

By  Gottfried  Wilhelm  Leibnitz.  Together  with  an  Appendix  consisting 
of  some  of  his  shorter  pieces,  translated  from  the  Original  Latin,  French,  and 
German.  With  Notes  by  Alfred  Gideon  Langley,  A.M.  (Brown).  Extra 
Crown  8vo.     14s.  net. 

SPEAKER. — "The  translator  has  done  his  work  with  extreme  care,  and  has 
paid  the  utmost  attention  to  variations  of  the  text,  and  has  enriched  the  volume  with 
many  useful  notes." 

CRITIQUE  OF  PURE  REASON.  By  Immanuel  Kant.  Trans- 
lated by  F.  Max  Muller.  With  Introduction  by  Ludwig  Noire.  2  Vols. 
8vo.     16s.  each. 

Vol.    L     HISTORICAL  INTRODUCTION. 

Vol.  n.     CRITIQUE  OF  PURE  REASON. 

KANT'S  CRITICAL  PHILOSOPHY  FOR  ENGLISH  READERS. 

By  J.  P.  Mahaffy,  D.D.,  Professor  of  Ancient  History  in  the  University  of 
Dublin,  and  John  H.  Bernard,  B.D.,  Fellow  of  Trinity  College,  Dublin. 
2  Vols.     Crown  8vo.     Vol.  I.,  7s.  6d.     Vol.  II.,  6s. 

Vol.    I.     THE    KRITIK  [OF    PURE    REASON    EXPLAINED    AND 

DEFENDED. 
Vol.  II.     THE  PROLEGOMENA.   Translated  with  Notes  and  Appendices. 

FIRST  AND  FUNDAMENTAL  TRUTHS  :  being  a  Treatise  on 
Metaphysics.     By  James  M'Cosh,  D.D.     Extra  Crown  Svo.     9s. 

MORAL   AND    METAPHYSICAL  PHILOSOPHY.      By   F.   D. 

Maurice,  M.A.,  Late  Professor  of  Moral  Philosophy  in  the  University  of  Cam- 
bridge.    New  Edition.     2  Vols.     Svo.     i6s. 

Vol.  I.  ANCIENT  PHILOSOPHY  AND  THE  FIRST  TO  THE 
THIRTEENTH  CENTURIES. 

Vol.  II.  FOURTEENTH  CENTURY  AND  THE  FRENCH  REVO- 
LUTION, WITH  A  GLIMPSE  INTO  THE  NINE- 
TEENTH CENTURY. 

A  HISTORY  OF  PHILOSOPHY.  With  special  reference  to  the 
Formation  and  Development  of  its  Problems  and  Conceptions.  By  Dr.  W. 
WiNDELBAND,  Professor  of  Philosophy  in  the  University  of  Strasburg.  Author- 
ised Translation  by  James  H.  Tufts,  Ph.D.,  Assistant  Professor  of  Philosophy 
in  the  University  of  Chicago.     Svo.     21s.  net. 

TIMES. — "A  text-book  of  metaphysics,  which  has  been  well  thumbed  in  the 
original  since  its  publication  in  1892,  and  will  probably  be  equally  popular  in  its 
well-executed  English  version." 

GENETIC  PHILOSOPHY.     By  President  David  J.   Hill,  of  the 

University  of  Rochester,  U.S.A.     7s.  net. 

***  In  this  book  the  author  deals  ivith  the  folloiving  subjects :  the  Genesis  of 
Matter;  the  Genesis  of  Life;  the  Genesis  ofConscious?iess;  the  Genesis  of  Feeling; 
the  Genesis  of  Thought ;  the  Genesis  of  Will ;  the  Genesis  of  Art ;  the  Genesis  of 
Morality;  the  Genesis  of  Religion ;  the  Genesis  of  Science. 

TIMES. — "  A  treatise  in  which  more  practical  problems  of  philosophical  research 
are  handled,  and  handled  ably." 

GLASGOW  HERALD.— ''  A  well-written  and  suggestive  book." 

MACMILLAN  AND   CO.,   Ltd.,   LONDON. 


'•ir'lr-' 


fi?-"    ipim 


14  DAY  USE 

RETURN  TO  DESK  FROM  WHICH  BORROWED 

LOAN  DEPT. 

This  book  is  due  on  the  last  date  stamped  below,  or 
on  the  date  to  which  renewed.       ^'  y.- 

Renewed  books  are  subject  to  itnmediate  recall. 


"-*. 


^Dec  ^6?Dii 


Kc^C'D  LD 


NOV  2^  1952 


llV!ay'63BB^ 


^ 


B 


-^tv 


PO 


-mi4  ms 


RECEIVED 


JUN    5  ^88  -S  PM 


LOAN  DrPT. 


^«^ 


%1 1963 


69 


y^u 


.^p^^ojjt)  m~^ 


^Z?'' 


w^ 


\  ftet^C^'^^'' 


-r^ 


EC'P  i...P 


RECEtVED 


JUN  21  1982 


EDUC*KYCH.  tlSRAttl 


KEB^ 


LD  21A-50m-3,'62 
(C7097sl0) 


476B    £EaciR.oKx 


eley 


U.C.BERKELEY  LIBRARIES 


iiiiiiiiiiii|iii 


CDMb74fi03E 


